Harry Potter and the Guardians
by Gabriel4
Summary: -COMPLETE- A 5th year story, AU due to OOTP. Harry's poisoning over the summer leads to the appointment of a guardian. Can Harry's assassination be prevented when it's not just Voldemort who wants to get his hands on him? You are invited to R&R!
1. Endless Summer

**A/N: **I think I'm supposed to add a disclaimer that I haven't written this for profit, just for fun, and the only thing that belongs to me are any characters I create.  The rest belong to J.K. Rowling. Chapter 1: Endless Summer 

Yet another beautiful Saturday had dawned in Surrey.  The sun shone down out of a richly blue, cloud-sprinkled sky.  A light breeze ruffled the leaves of the trees that lined Privet Drive.  Many of the neighborhood residents were outside on manicured lawns, enjoying picnics of chicken salad and lemonade.  One local boy, however, barely noticed the beauty of the summer's day.

Harry Potter leaned on his windowsill, staring at a nearby yard where several children were running about.  Their shrieks and giggles drifted through the air, but he seemed not to notice.  His eyes remained fixed on one point, not following the children.  In fact, he was not really aware of them at all.

Long moments passed in silence.  When a bird trilled right outside his window, Harry was shaken from his reverie.  He shook his head to try and free his mind of his shadowy thoughts.  Gently he chastised himself for dwelling on his nightmares again.  Harry reminded himself that it was only natural to have them after such an event as he had been through, and that they would pass with time.  As Dumbledore had once said to him, _"It does not do to dwell on dreams – and forget to live."_  The meaning of those words had been different the first time they were spoken, but for Harry, they still applied now.  Try as he might, though, the dreams were hard to ignore.  Voldemort had been reborn many times over the course of the summer, always after callously murdering Cedric Diggory.

Harry had long since been reconciled to the fact that Cedric was dead, and through the gentle attentions of his friends, had accepted that it was not his fault.  Dumbledore himself had sent Harry a letter some weeks earlier.  To Harry's great relief, it not been filled with platitudes, but instead had contained information about preparations for the impending conflict with Voldemort.  The headmaster had included several words of wisdom and tactful comfort regarding the events of the previous spring, but he was never condescending.  Thinking of the letter always cheered Harry considerably.  He was honored by Dumbledore's decision to treat him as an adult and to keep him informed.  Harry knew that news would not come often as owls could be intercepted, but he was grateful for what he had.  It kept him from climbing the walls.

Petunia Dursley's shrill voice called from downstairs in an angry tone.  Harry grimaced.  It sounded like she had been shouting at him for some time, but he had not noticed.  She hated to have to call him twice.  He reluctantly left his seat at the window and headed downstairs.

In the case of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, absence did not make the heart grow fonder.  To them their nephew was nothing but a potentially dangerous nuisance and another mouth to feed.  Harry had returned from school sobered and changed; it hadn't taken his aunt and uncle long to notice, but they had never cared much about his well-being before, and they weren't about to start now.  Straight away they had begun to order Harry about, making him do laborious chores and starving him on their son Dudley's diet.  Harry remembered well when they had begun to both mock his melancholy and punish him for it.  That very day he had made an important decision: he wasn't going to give his relatives the satisfaction of seeing him suffer.  When they taunted him, he refused to rise to their bait; when they ordered him to yet another grueling task, Harry did it without complaint.  He remained polite and outwardly imperturbable, and the frustration of the Dursleys was very satisfying.

            Harry knew that his aunt and uncle were nearing their wits' end.  His chores were growing steadily more tedious, but he was determined not to give in.  He also saw the way Vernon and Petunia looked between him and Dudley whenever their son threw a tantrum; they were both about the same age, but Dudley was spoiled, selfish, and given to excess.  His diet was starting to have an effect, but that was only because his parents had finally managed to destroy his secret stash of sweets.  Dudley fought his parents tooth and nail, and everyone in the household was slightly deaf as a result.  Harry simply watched as his aunt and uncle tried to exercise their authority over Dudley after years of indulgence; from their faces, they knew that Harry had long since bypassed their son in maturity, and it was a galling admission for them to make.

            Harry entered the kitchen, and Petunia glared at him.  "Finally!  Took you long enough, you lazy boy!"

            Harry's reply was one of utmost politeness.  "You called for me, Aunt Petunia?"

            Petunia looked like she wanted to grind her teeth.  Inwardly, Harry smiled.  _One point to me._  His aunt lifted her chin and looked down her nose at him.  "You are to strip and repaint the front door.  You know where to find the tools."  She watched Harry nod in assent.  Over the years, many of his chores had involved heavy work of this kind, and he was fully aware of what he needed.  "I expect you to be finished by supper."

            "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

            Petunia looked daggers at Harry, but refrained from adding any more.  _Two points for me! Harry thought._

            As he headed toward the garage, Petunia spoke again.  "Harry," she said, almost casually, "the day after tomorrow your uncle and I are going out with Dudley for the day.  Mrs. Figg has agreed to watch you."

            Harry paused in mid-step and was unable to stop himself from flinching.  He hated being babysat by Mrs. Figg, and the Dursleys all knew it.  He was almost fifteen, after all!  But he merely replied, "Yes, ma'am."  Harry updated his scorecard: _One point for the Dursleys.  Clearly, the battle was not won yet.  The Dursleys still had some tricks up their sleeves._

**********

            The July sun beat down on Privet Drive like a hammer.  Harry sat back on his heels and took a long drink of ice water from his plastic cup.  For a minute, he simply sat there, looking around the neighborhood.  Harry mentally counted his blessings: it was a beautiful day, no one was shouting at him, and his water was nice and cold.  Plus, his aunt and uncle were going out to visit some new neighbors soon, and that meant that he could get some lunch inside without being told what to eat.  Harry wiped sweat from his forehead and took another drink.  The heat made his job more difficult, but he still preferred working outside to indoor chores.  Harry had a knack for getting detentions at school, and this year would surely be no different.  He didn't want to polish silver all summer _and at school, thank you very much._

Break time was over.  Harry reached over, picked up his sandpaper, and started on the door again.  He wasn't a moment too soon - his aunt and uncle chose that very moment to walk out the open doorway.  "We'll be back for supper, Duddy darling!" Petunia trilled.  They both looked over at Harry, slaving away, covered with sweat; he did not even glance at them.  He was lucky that they hadn't come out while he was resting.  That would have earned him a tongue-lashing for sure.  Vernon and Petunia turned away haughtily and headed down the walk to the street.  Harry was glad to see them go.  The Mortisons had only been in the neighborhood for a few weeks, but they were already thick as thieves with his aunt and uncle.  That inexplicable friendship meant that Harry had a pretty good idea of what they were like.  Mrs. Mortison must be a nosy gossip, and Mr. Mortison was probably a large and self-righteous man.  The Dursleys were so thrilled with their new neighbors that Harry couldn't imagine them being any other way.  He was willing to bet that he was verbally crucified on every visit; the Dursleys never refrained from complaining about him to their friends.

            Harry moved his sandpaper over the door with more vigor, determined to finish as soon as possible.  It was going to be a long summer, but he wasn't about to let the Dursleys get the best of him.


	2. Old Home Remedy

**A/N: **Same old disclaimer. See chapter 1. We have the setup now – what happens when the Dursleys try to "even the score"?

Chapter 2: Old Home Remedy 

            "What is it?" Harry repeated suspiciously.

            His aunt rolled her eyes and glared at him.  "I just told you – it's something that will help perk you up a bit.  Your uncle and I feel that you've been nothing but sluggish this summer."

            "What?" Harry said incredulously.  "I finished that whole door today!"

            "And your attitude is completely wanting in respect!" his uncle barked.  "All the marks of a lazy boy who needs some readjusting!"

            Harry barely kept his anger in check.  Hadn't he done everything they'd asked this summer without any griping whatsoever?  Hadn't he been so polite that it nearly made him sick?  He knew they were trying to make him angry; so far his new policy of not rising to their bait had worked marvelously.  The less they saw of how their remarks affected him, the more irritated they became, and this gave Harry a great deal of pleasure.  Even so, he refused to drink that… that _stuff_… without a fight.

            "I won't drink it until you tell me what's in it!"  Harry eyed the glass of scarlet liquid, crinkling his nose in disgust.

            "It's a home remedy.  You don't want to know what's in it," Petunia snapped.

            "Bet it's turpentine and blood," snickered Dudley.

            Harry scowled, and so did Uncle Vernon, whose face was in danger of going as red as the liquid in the glass.  "There's nothing in it that will hurt you, boy," he said through gritted teeth.  Harry thought he sounded rather disappointed.  "But it's not a nice combination.  It'll be worse for you knowing, believe me.  So do as we say and _drink it down."_

            Harry sighed in resignation and looked at the glass again.  It was only a quarter full, but still looked decidedly unappetizing.  Dudley laughed aloud, delighted at Harry's distress.  Harry glared bitterly at his cousin.  _I wonder if Aunt Petunia has a nasty home remedy for mean-spirited boys?_ he thought.  _Oh, well… best to get this over with.  He took the glass from his aunt with a grimace, pinched his nose, and took a sip._

            It was sour, spicy, and biting all at the same time.  Harry gulped to keep himself from spraying the Dursleys with the liquid in his mouth.  He coughed forcefully, and raised his head.  "What… what IS this?  Vinegar?  Chili pepper?"

            "Bottoms up, boy," Vernon Dursley said, mustache twitching, his teeth still firmly clamped.  Dudley grinned unpleasantly beside him, suddenly looking like a wider version of Draco Malfoy.

            Harry considered the glass again.  There really wasn't that much in it.  Besides, Polyjuice Potion had definitely been worse, and at least he had never burped up slugs, like Ron.  Harry summoned his courage and tipped the remainder down his throat.

**********

            Harry rolled over in bed and looked at his alarm clock.  Two A.M…  Why had he woken up?  Somehow he felt even more tired than when he had gone to bed.  His mouth was completely dry.  Harry sat up with a groan.  He didn't feel well at all.  _Must be that home remedy,_ he thought.  He stood up, and started to walk out of his room in search of a glass of water.

            _Milk._  The thought formed from out of the blue.  _Not water.  Milk._  A sense of urgency hit Harry like a hammer.  He descended the stairs, picking up speed as he went, entering the kitchen at a run.  He fumbled in a cabinet for a glass and grabbed the carton of milk from the refrigerator.  With shaking hands, he ripped open the new container and poured, spilling some in his haste.  He seized the glass with both hands and brought it to his lips.

            It was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted in his life.  Pumpkin juice was nothing to this.  Harry drank and drank without pausing for breath, tipping the glass higher and higher as he neared the bottom.  He had no sooner finished than he feverishly picked up the carton again and poured himself another helping.  This time he drank more slowly, enjoying the refreshing taste.  Harry put the glass down, breathing as if he had been running.  He was still thirsty.  A third glass followed, and a fourth.

            Harry had just begun pouring himself a fifth when a wave of drowsiness washed over him.  His eyelids were leaden, his body heavy.  Slowly he put the carton of milk back on the counter and picked up his glass.  He regarded it silently for a moment; it was not even half full.  Carefully he drank the last and set it back down.  He hadn't been quite careful enough; milk dripped down the side of his chin, and the glass fell over with a clink.  Harry barely noticed.  He staggered out of the kitchen and up the stairs, finally collapsing in his bed.  He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

            Harry had no idea how long he had been sleeping when he awoke again.  Something was nipping at his fingertips.  He jerked his arm compulsively and opened his eyes drowsily in time to see Hedwig flutter onto her perch on his desk.  Harry was suddenly aware that he was freezing and reached around to pull on his blankets.  "Thanks, Hed," murmured into his pillow.  Hedwig hooted softly, her mission accomplished, and tucked her head under her wing.

**********

            Petunia Dursley's screech of anger upon finding a milky mess in her kitchen failed to wake Harry the next morning.  She stomped loudly up the stairs and burst into his room; the door banged against the wall and Hedwig squawked in indignation, but Harry slept on.  It was only when Petunia shook him roughly that his eyes fluttered open.

            "Horrible mess in the kitchen!" she yelled.  "Milk spilled all over!  Carton ripped!  The whole thing nearly drunk, and the rest left out to spoil!"

            Harry stared at his aunt blearily and did not reply.  Petunia was furious.  "Ungrateful, lazy boy, you answer me when I'm talking to you!"  She reached down and grasped his shoulder to shake him again, but withdrew her hand when it met damp cloth.  "You little fool, you're drenched in sweat!  You know better than to sleep under all these covers on such a hot…"

            Harry moaned, and Petunia trailed off.  She put out a tentative hand and touched Harry's forehead.

            He was on fire.

            Petunia blinked and stepped away from the bed.  Harry moved about restlessly, and flung his covers off.  "I'm hot," he mumbled, to no one in particular.

            Petunia stood very still, staring at an unremarkable spot on the floor for a long minute.  Comprehension suddenly dawned on her face, and she quickly turned to go.

            "Aunt Petunia?"  She turned around and barely kept herself from screaming.  Harry was looking at her.  His eyes were no longer green, but silver.  As she watched, the silver swirled like mercury and was replaced by the proper emerald color.

"I'm sorry, I think I'm sick."  Harry swallowed hard and looked away.

            "I'll go get some medicine," Petunia replied, and quickly left the room.

**********

            "BUT I WANT TO GO TO THE THEATER!" Dudley screamed, stamping his foot.

            "Duddydums, it's completely out of the question.  Harry is too sick to leave with Mrs. Figg."

            "HE ALWAYS RUINS EVERYTHING!  I HATE HARRY!"  Dudley's bellows made the walls tremble.

            "Is he really that ill, dear?" Vernon asked.

            "Vernon, we need to talk," Petunia said.  Vernon looked at Petunia's frightened face, and nodded.

            "I DON'T WANT TO STAY HOME!"  Clearly enraged at being ignored while throwing one of his more spectacular tantrums, Dudley danced from one foot to the other, shouting as loudly as possible.

            "DUDLEY!" roared Vernon.  "Your mother and I are having a discussion!  Go outside if you want to scream!"

            Dudley, shocked at being set down, stood with his mouth agape.

            "Mind me, son, and go outside," Vernon said.  Dudley opened his mouth to argue, but one look at his father's face changed his mind.  The mustache was quivering ominously.  Dudley turned, stalked out the front door, and slammed it behind him.

            Petunia cleared her throat and described Harry's symptoms.  She twisted her hands while she told her husband about the milk incident and the color-changing eyes.

Vernon's red face paled a little.  "Do… do you think this is… a disease that only _his _kind gets?"  

Petunia shook her head.  "I don't know about that, but I think… I think that this has something to do with the drink the Mortisons gave us."

Vernon sighed.  "I was afraid you'd say that."

Petunia looked up again, eyes wide.  "Vernon, we never asked them what was in it!  If anything happens to Harry, if anyone finds out…"  She broke off, gasping.

"Now, now, dear, don't get yourself worked up."  Vernon placed a hand on his wife's shoulder.  "Most likely Harry's just had a reaction to something in it.  You make him some chicken soup, and I'll go talk to the Mortisons and ask them for the recipe.  I'll tell them it worked so well we want to make it ourselves so he can take it more often."

            A sigh of relief met Vernon's ears at this.  "Oh that's brilliant, darling!  Yes, I'll get started on that soup right away… You'll go see them now, won't you?"

            "Just leaving, Petunia."  Vernon headed straight out the front door, ignoring his son's whines.

            Within fifteen minutes he was back, only to announce to his wife that the Mortisons were not at home.  Petunia's face fell, but Vernon quickly put an arm around her and promised to go back in an hour or two.  They were probably just out for the morning; it was Sunday, after all.  This prospect cheered Petunia considerably, and she busied herself in taking soup up to Harry.  Dudley's tantrum was over, and he had resigned himself to sulking in his room.

            But the Mortisons were not back in an hour, nor two, nor three.  Petunia's anxiety mounted with each failed attempt to find them.  The ringing of their doorbell caused her heart to soar with hope, but it turned out to be Mrs. Figg, who had stopped by to find out why Harry had not been dropped off yet, and weren't they supposed to be going out today?  The old woman's face clouded with concern when she was told that Harry had taken ill.  Petunia's nerves were showing, so Vernon firmly escorted Mrs. Figg back to the walk with every promise that they were looking after Harry, and that he would surely be back in high spirits within a few days.

            Harry ate very little soup and drank almost nothing.  He was alternately either hot or freezing.  As the day wore on, he fell into an uneasy slumber.  His aunt watched him toss and turn with an anxious eye.  Each touch of her hand on his forehead told her that his fever was not lessening.  However, it was the moment when Harry began to speak nonsense in his sleep that Petunia became truly frightened.  "Voldemort", "Diggory", and "Wormtail" meant nothing to her.  She was finally convinced that Harry was not going to get better without more aid.

            Panicking, Petunia hurried down the stairs to find her husband.  The sun had already set, and twilight was upon them.  Why, oh, why had they waited so long?  "Vernon!" she gasped, spotting her husband in an easy chair.  "We need to –"

            She was interrupted by a loud knock at the front door.


	3. The Valley of the Shadow

**A/N: **Still not mine. I've had one review! Thanks!! _Please_ let me know what you think – it's wonderful to know that people are reading my story. All comments are welcome!

Chapter 3: The Valley of the Shadow 

            Harry rolled over and clutched the bedclothes more tightly around him.  He couldn't seem to stop shivering.  Hadn't he been sweating just a little while ago?  He couldn't really remember.

            Harry's limbs ached painfully, as if he had overworked every muscle in his body.  He felt very tired, and was always drifting in and out of sleep.  With every awakening he felt less and less able to stay focused on anything.  His aunt's face would drift into his field of vision, looking genuinely concerned.  Each time Harry saw her, she looked a little blurrier.  It was as if a gray mist was obscuring his vision, and no amount of blinking could clear it.

            Thoughts were becoming difficult to hold onto as evening approached.  All Harry wanted to do was sleep.  Waking was confusing; he had no idea what was going on.  His senses felt dulled into uselessness.

            Dark dreams invaded Harry's sleep.  He was walking down a Hogwarts corridor with Ron and Hermione.  Voldemort's high laughter rang all around them, but his friends didn't seem to hear it; they smiled and walked on.  Harry looked behind them and saw Peter Pettigrew following; a long rat's tail was attached to his human form.  He tried to warn Ron and Hermione, but his hands passed through them as if he had no substance.  No sound escaped his lips when he tried to shout.  Harry felt a chill and turned, looking into the gray face of Cedric Diggory's ghost.  "You can't help them when you're dead… you're dead… you're dead…"

            Cedric's voice echoed in the air.  It began to change, growing louder and louder.  Was someone shouting?  Harry tried to turn over, but found he was too weary.  With an effort, he opened his eyes.  Someone was sitting on his bed next to him.  Harry couldn't distinguish faces anymore, but he knew that he was thirsty.  "Milk," he managed hoarsely.

            Whoever it was must have spoken, but all Harry heard was a muffled sound as if his ears had been stuffed with cotton.  He felt himself being moved to a sitting position.  A hand rested at the back of his head, and he was swallowing sweet, cold milk.

            Harry was lying down again.  Vague impressions and strange visions filled his head.  He no longer knew the difference between sleeping and waking.  He felt like he was being pulled in two directions – he was sinking, as into the depths of a lake, only to periodically be pulled up towards the surface.  Sometimes he felt as if he were floating or rushing forward through a cold wind.  He saw many faces before him: his godfather, a stranger he didn't recognize, Dumbledore, Voldemort, and more.  They often spoke to him, but he never understood what they said.  He felt liquids pouring down his throat though he had no idea how they got there.  He saw a room that came in and out of view, owls flying, fires burning.  Voices shouted words like thunder.  A bright blue light seared his vision and faded away into darkness, pulling him down…

**********

            "Harry."  His name was being spoken, quietly.  "Harry."

            Harry opened his eyes and blinked in the sudden light.  Albus Dumbledore was looking down at him, his eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles.

            Harry blinked again.  He didn't think he was dreaming this time.  "Professor?" he asked.  His voice sounded strange in his own ears.

The headmaster beamed down at him.  "Good morning.  I am pleased to find that you recognize me."

Harry frowned at this extraordinary pronouncement, but was distracted by the unfamiliar surroundings in which he found himself.  He was lying in a big, soft bed with crisp sheets and a light comforter.  Dumbledore sat in an armchair right next to the bed.  The room was large and full of green things, from the walls to the upholstery.  Curtains were pulled away from many windows to let in the morning light.  Outside the branches of great trees were waving.  A bird chirped into the silence.

"Where…" Harry began, but Dumbledore held up a hand.

            "A moment if you please, Harry.  I was instructed to give you this the moment you awoke."  He held a small cup in one hand.  "Let's get you sitting up.  _Elevus_._"  The pillows behind Harry's head began to tilt up at an angle, slowly pushing him along with it, until he was sitting in bed.  "Now then," Dumbledore said with a smile, "drink up, or certain persons will have my head."_

            Harry took the cup and looked inside.  The liquid was clear, like water.  Harry drank obediently.  It was tasteless, but the cool, refreshing sensation that washed over him was too strong to come from water.  He felt more awake, his mind clearer.

            "No doubt you have many questions, Harry," Dumbledore said as he took the cup, "but there are others who will be glad to see you awake as well – one in particular.  If you will excuse me, I will fetch him, and then you shall have some explanations."

            Harry nodded, curious.  The headmaster left the room, his long silver hair and blue robes sweeping out behind him.  A few seconds passed, and then, from somewhere nearby came a great shout and the sound of running feet.

            Sirius Black burst through the doorway.  Dark shadows hung under his eyes, and his too-pale face bore a look of panic.  Joy exploded inside Harry like a firework.  "Sirius!" he shouted.  His godfather's face crumpled as he rushed to the bedside.

            "Thank God, Harry!"  Sirius threw both arms around his godson.  Harry could feel him shaking, and it took him a moment to realize that Sirius was crying.

            Harry was stunned, but instinctively grasped his godfather's hand and squeezed it.  "It's all right, Sirius, I'm fine."

            Sirius gripped Harry's hand so hard that it hurt.  "I thought we'd lost you!" he exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion.  He held on tightly, and Harry was content to let him do so.  For a long minute, neither person moved.  Sirius' weeping was the only sound.  Harry had never heard Sirius cry before, and it made him feel strangely afraid.  His insides seemed to be turning to ice.

            Finally Sirius seemed to have released all his tension.  He let Harry go and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.  "Thank God you're all right," he repeated hoarsely.  "You passed the critical point a long time ago, but until you woke up…"

            Harry felt anxious to reassure his godfather as much as possible.  "Everything's fine, Sirius.  I'm feeling really good now."

            Sirius looked hard at Harry's face.  "Your eyes are green," he said, sounding relieved.

            "What?" Harry said.  "Of course they're green –"

            "Did Dumbledore give you the restorative?" Sirius interrupted.

            "Yes," Harry replied.  "He said someone threatened him about it.  I guess he was talking about you."

            Sirius chuckled softly.  "Yeah, that was me, all right, but I wasn't the only one.  Snape was actually lecturing him about it an hour ago."

            "_Snape_?"  Harry goggled at Sirius.  "_Snape's_ here?"

            "Yes," Sirius replied, "along with a few other people.  But maybe we should just add that to your list of questions, hmm?  I'll go get Dumbledore."


	4. Questions and Revelations

**A/N: **Harry's a tough cookie.  Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Questions and Revelations

Sirius returned in a matter of moments, the headmaster at his side.  "Well, young Harry," Dumbledore said, settling himself back into his armchair, "the entire house is in uproar with your recovery.  However, I have arranged for the three of us to have a quiet chat over lunch, which should be arriving shortly."

No sooner did he stop speaking than three trays materialized into the room, hovering in the air.  One tray floated to Harry and Dumbledore each; the third waited while Sirius drew up another chair.  Harry's had feet that rested on the bed, raising the tray to span his legs.

With the appearance of the food Harry became aware of his stomach which felt like it was trying to gnaw a hole through his middle.  He had warm bread, cheese, sliced fruit, a small pudding, and a large goblet of cold milk.  Harry took a big bite of bread with strawberry jam.  "Mmmmmmhhh," he sighed, sinking back into his pillows.

"Hungry?" Sirius asked.

"Mmmpf," Harry replied, taking another bite.

"You should be," his godfather said, slicing a veal cutlet.  "You haven't eaten in a week."

Harry dropped both his bread and his jaw.  "What?"

"I must say, Harry, you gave us all quite a fright," Dumbledore said.  He took a bite of beef roast with gravy and smiled.  "Delicious."

Harry's head was full of questions, but he was too busy eating to ask them.  They all ate quietly for a few moments before Dumbledore put down his knife and fork and sat back in his chair.  "It may take some time to satiate a week's hunger, Harry, so I shall relate recent events to you for now."  Harry nodded, and started working on the cheese.  Dumbledore cleared his throat and began.  "Last Saturday evening, your aunt and uncle gave you something to drink in complete ignorance of its true nature.  What you drank is called Dragonthistle Potion.  It is one of the more deadly poisons known to the magical world, and is rare and difficult to brew."

Harry was horrorstruck.  "They _poisoned me?"_

"Yes, but unwittingly," Dumbledore said.  "Your aunt and uncle got it from their neighbors – the Mortisons, as I believe they were calling themselves."  Harry stared at him.  Why would his neighbors poison him?  Dumbledore's face betrayed a hint of anger.  "Based on their descriptions, they were most likely Fergus and Ludmilla Blake, a wizarding couple who have long been suspected of dabbling in the dark arts."

"They did more than dabble," Sirius growled darkly.

"So it would seem," the headmaster agreed.  "You would have died the following day had you not drunk more than a liter of milk in the middle of the night.  Do you remember this?"

Harry nodded slowly.  "I remember waking up and being really thirsty, but milk was all I wanted."

"Milk is not an antidote for Dragonthistle Potion, but it does slow the effects.  The poison is very acidic, and it was dehydrating you.  Your body was craving a basic liquid to offset it, and milk was a convenient solution."

Dumbledore paused to drink from his goblet before taking up the story again.  "Your relatives found that this was not your only unusual symptom.  Besides running a high fever, your eyes were changing color from green to silver and back again."

Harry looked at Sirius, who nodded.  "That's why I was glad to see Lily's eyes in your face."

"This change in color," Dumbledore said, "is caused by scorpion bile, which is an ingredient that is used only in Dragonthistle Potion."  Harry recoiled in disgust, and Dumbledore chuckled.  "Quite.  Your malady went untreated all day, and drinking milk cannot ultimately save you from the poison.  But your neighbor, Mrs. Arabella Figg, found out that you were ill when your relatives failed to bring you by as planned.  She notified me immediately."

The headmaster paused, and let his words sink in.  Harry's eyes grew wide.  "Mrs. Figg… Mrs. Figg is a _witch?"_

"I commissioned Arabella to keep watch over you from the day you came to live with the Dursleys fourteen years ago," Dumbledore said.  "Being blood relatives, they intrinsically offer you some protection.  It is very old magic – but that is an explanation for a different day.  We placed numerous wards around Privet Drive and still more around the house proper.  No Dark wizard could touch them without our knowing.  I must say, it was very clever of your enemies to send danger into your home by way of your… obtuse relations.  The poison by itself could not trigger an alarm.  But Arabella was a Ravenclaw, and is one of the cleverest and most resourceful witches I have ever known.  She always kept her eyes open.

"Arabella told me of your illness and your relatives' reluctance to discuss it.  I felt it would be prudent to send someone to check on you in case of foul play.  I called upon someone you have never met before, but who I hold close in my confidence.  Celeste Thornby arrived at your home Sunday evening.  When she saw your eyes, she knew immediately what you were suffering from.  She will, in fact, be your History of Magic professor this coming year, but that is not a commonly known fact."  Harry listened, rapt with attention.  Dumbledore had never given such a lengthy and detailed speech before, and he dared not interrupt.

"Professor Thornby collected you and your belongings and brought you in haste to Alverbrooke, where we now sit.  Your flight from Privet Drive was a dangerous one; Voldemort's supporters surely expected you to be as weak as a newborn kitten by then, and would have been converging to attack the wards.  Your family, fortunately, heeded Professor Thornby's warnings and fled the house.  She dared not bring you to Hogwarts, though it would have been the best place for you.  She knew that the Death Eaters would be expecting us to bring you there, and that they would Apparate straight to Hogsmeade.  Flying near it would have been too great a risk.

"No one could be sent to Alverbrooke for three days.  The Death Eaters were enraged when they discovered you had been spirited away.  They attacked Hogsmeade with a vengeance.  The village still stands," Dumbledore said, seeing Harry's shock, "but it has been badly damaged and many people were injured.  Hogsmeade has long been a target by supporters of Voldemort, and it was only a matter of time before they attacked.

"The entire wizarding population of England was caught up in the battle.  Busy as we were holding Voldemort at bay, all we could do was pray that Professor Thornby could keep you alive.  She did not have the antidote for Dragonthistle Potion, and it is almost as hard to make as the poison; she had no attention to spare for this, with you in her care.  You drank many lesser antidotes and restoratives in three days, such as she had, and she drank herself out of Stamina Potion.  By the third day she was sending messages by the hour, begging us to come as quickly as possible, for you were finally slipping away, and she was weary.  When we failed to arrive, she cast a spell as a last resort."

Dumbledore paused.  Harry looked at the somber faces of the headmaster and his godfather.  Dumbledore seemed temporarily lost in thought.  When he did not speak, Sirius cleared his throat.  "She used the _Donum__ Vitae incantation.  It transfers vitality from the caster to a living thing – you, in this case.  You were nearly gone."  Sirius' voice wavered, and he looked down at his hands.  Harry sat very still.  "Celeste did as much as she could," his godfather continued.  "She was too tired to maintain the spell past a certain point, and she collapsed."_

"We arrived after she had cast the spell, and found her asleep on the floor next to your bed," Dumbledore said gravely.

"I panicked," Sirius breathed.  "I thought we were too late.  We didn't know what she had done."

Harry's heart thumped painfully inside his chest.  Sirius raised his eyes again, and his face flickered into a smile.  "Snape examined you, and declared you to be not only alive, but not nearly as bad off as Celeste's messages had indicated.  He gave you the antidote straight away – he'd been working on it ever since the cause of your illness had been confirmed."

"I had to hold your nose to get you to swallow," Dumbledore said.

Harry couldn't help himself; he laughed aloud, and so did Sirius.  The tension in the room vanished, and he felt himself breathe normally again.  Harry suddenly felt better than he had since before the third task of the Triwizard Tournament, just one month ago.  It had been a long time since he had laughed properly.

"Professor Thornby was exhausted," Dumbledore continued.  "Three days' worth of Stamina Potion had worn off, and whatever energy she had left was used up in _Donum__ Vitae.  She slept for thirty-six hours before coming around."_

"I've never heard of _Donum__ Vitae_ before," Harry mused.  "Will we learn that one?"

"No."  Dumbledore spoke so firmly that Harry immediately felt foolish without knowing what he had said wrong.  The headmaster made a soothing motion with one wrinkled hand.  "Be easy, please.  Your question is quite reasonable.  _Donum__ Vitae_ is an arcane spell, and while it is useful, it is both demanding and dangerous.  It can only be used in cases of extreme need, and requires a great strength of will and singular purpose to cast.  Most people could repeat the spell over and over without anything ever happening."  Dumbledore looked very hard at Harry.  "However, nearly all the witches and wizards who have been able to manage it were unable to control the spell, and died giving their life to someone else."

Sirius grunted.  "She was lucky."

"Perhaps," Dumbledore said blithely.  "Those that survived after casting _Donum__ Vitae_ spoke of a strong desire to hold on longer as the spell went on.  That seduction is the reason the incantation has not been taught for centuries."

Harry wondered where Professor Thornby had learned the spell, but kept the thought to himself and tried a different question.  "So who else is here, exactly?"

"There are five others," Dumbledore answered.  "Remus Lupin, Professor Thornby, Professor Snape, Ardoc Bellaton, and Healer Fitzwilliam Bigelow.  Ardoc will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, for this year at least.  Healer Bigelow is an old friend of mine, and has been looking after you ever since Professor Snape administered the antidote.  Even after Professor Thornby cast her spell, you required quite a bit of time to recover.  This is the morning of the third day since then.  I'm sorry to say it, but you slept through your birthday."

"So... that makes three more people who know about Sirius," Harry said quietly.

Dumbledore nodded.  "When news of your poisoning reached me, I knew I could not keep it from your godfather.  Sirius came to Hogwarts with Remus, and I simply arranged for as few people to learn the truth as possible.  Those that know are completely trustworthy."

"Snape wasn't overly pleased to see Remus or myself," Sirius added.  "I'll have to tell you about it sometime, Harry.  His face turned the most amazing shade of purple –"

Dumbledore cleared his throat loudly, but his lips were curved into a faint smile.  Sirius broke off, grinning.  "The attack on Hogsmeade threw many people together.  Understandings were reached quickly, out of necessity," Dumbledore said.

An unpleasant thought had come to Harry.  "Do Ron and Hermione know about this?"

"No," Dumbledore said.  "Hardly anyone is aware of the attempt on your life.  Between the people in this house, Professor McGonagall, and the Death Eaters, you have the lot.  A few others who need to know will be told, of course, but I would rather this did not reach the ear of a _Daily Prophet_ reporter.  Eager as I am to convince the wizarding world that Voldemort has returned, I will not do it at your expense.  I expect you have enjoyed more than your fill of publicity."  Harry nodded uncomfortably.  "You wish to confide in Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger, I suppose."

Something in Dumbledore's voice made Harry's heart sink.  "You don't want me to?" he asked, dismayed.

"No, no," Dumbledore said.  "You misunderstand me; I think you should tell them as soon as you are able.  I do not expect you to keep secrets from your closest friends.  Molly and Arthur will be among the informed, of course, but I am going to draw the line there with the Weasleys.  Now, I think that we have talked enough for the time being.  You have been neglecting your lunch," he asked, looking at Harry's tray.

"Must have slipped my mind," Harry murmured, feeling his hunger return in full force.

"Please do finish, Harry.  Fitzwilliam will not be happy with me if you do not.  Dear me, I've been threatened too many times today."  Everyone laughed.  "I must go speak with the others now – are you staying, Sirius?"

"Silly question," Sirius replied, scooting his chair closer to Harry's bed.

The headmaster stood up, and looked down at Harry.  "No doubt you have more questions, Harry, but for now they will have to wait.  Be assured that we shall speak more tomorrow."  And with a smile, he departed.

"Fuschia, Harry," his godfather said, after Dumbledore had left the room.  "I wish you could have seen it… I always thought Snape could use a little color in his cheeks."

Harry laughed again, and dug into his pudding.


	5. Allies, Old and New

**A/N: **Still not mine. As always, thanks for the reviews! I'm always hoping to see new people checking out my work. Chapter 5: Allies, Old and New 

Harry woke in the late afternoon to find that he was still not alone in his room.  He was both pleased and surprised when he saw who occupied the armchair at his bedside.  "Professor Lupin!" he exclaimed.

His old teacher looked up from his book and smiled.  "Hello, Harry," he said, marking his page and closing the volume.  "How are you feeling?"

Harry stretched his arms and rolled his head gently.  "Stiff," he said.

"Obviously," the older man said with a wince, hearing the popping sounds in most of Harry's joints.  "Care to get out of bed?"

"Oh, yes, Professor," Harry said eagerly.

Lupin smiled.  "Please call me Remus, Harry.  I'm not your teacher anymore.  Here, give me your hand – I'm not sure how well you're going to do after a week on your back."

Harry pulled back his covers, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and grasped Lupin's hand with his own.  Lupin's grip felt very strong to Harry, but he supposed that might be because he was weakened himself.  Carefully he stood up.

"Right.  Now, easy does it… Let's head for that chair over by the window."

Harry looked, and nodded.  The chair was less than three meters away.             At first things were very awkward; Harry's legs felt like jelly and seemed to go anywhere but the place he wanted them to be.  But some of his stiffness was working itself out as they went on; his joints cracked less as they neared the window, and his feet started obeying his commands.  Finally he flopped down into the chair and stretched his legs.  "That wasn't so bad," he said.  "I wouldn't mind some more walking."

Lupin shook his head.  "Rest first.  You'll be sitting quite a bit today, at Healer Bigelow's request, but tomorrow you should do much better."  He gave Harry the same scrutinizing look that Sirius had used.  "You look well for someone who just had a brush with death," he said.  "Sirius spent the last three days climbing the walls.  He's sleeping now that he knows you're all right."

Harry shivered at the memory of their meeting earlier that day.  "He cried when I first saw him.  It scared me."

"Well, he loves you very much.  He took his role as godfather very seriously from the moment your parents first asked him.  Even when we knew you were on the mend he still wouldn't stop pacing.  He told me that he had to see you awake before he could relax.  It… takes a lot to make Sirius cry.  I myself have never seen him do it.  I imagine he did after he heard that your parents were killed."  Lupin paused for a moment.  "It's very good to see you, Harry."

"Thanks, er, Remus."  Harry smiled at him.  "It's good to see you, too."  He sighed aloud.  "I have a lot of people to talk to.  Ron and Hermione, and I've never even met Professor Thornby or what's-his-name."

"You mean Ardoc Bellaton, perhaps?" Lupin said, looking toward the open door.  A jumble of voices outside had become audible and was growing louder.  "You may be meeting them any moment."

They sat watching the door, hearing the voices draw nearer.  Their owners seemed to be arguing.

"…must check his health you interrogate him, Ardoc."

"The Blakes have a week's head start, and the trail is growing colder –"

"It can cool for five more minutes, and then you can have him."

"Be quiet, both of you!  He may still be sleeping!"

Three figures appeared in the doorway, and stopped at the sight of Harry and Lupin sitting by the window.  The lone woman had to be Professor Thornby; one of the men wore crisp white robes, identifying him as Healer Bigelow.  He was a short, balding man with wings of snow-white hair above each ear.  He had a large nose, red cheeks, and a congenial expression.  He smiled broadly at his patient, and lines crinkled out all over his face.

Celeste Thornby was fair-haired and pretty.  She was younger than most of the Hogwarts professors Harry already knew, but her steady gaze spoke of self-confidence.

The last man had to be Ardoc Bellaton, who was one of the tallest men Harry had ever seen, excepting Hagrid.  His robes did little to hide his broad shoulders and thick arms.  The hair atop his head was dark and wild, but his mustache and goatee were neatly trimmed.  His face broke into a grin, making his square jaw even wider.  He stepped forward with his hand outstretched.  "Ardoc Bellaton, Mr. Potter.  It's good to see you up and about at last.  How do you do?" he boomed.

"Much better, thanks," Harry replied.  Professor Bellaton enclosed his hand in a steely grip.  Harry had the feeling that the older man was making an effort not to crush his hand.

"This is Fitzwilliam Bigelow," he continued, gesturing to the much smaller man.

The healer stepped forward, cheeks glowing, looking dwarfish next to Bellaton.  "Pleasure to meet you, Harry," he said pleasantly, giving Harry's hand a gentle squeeze.

"And Celeste Thornby, of course," continued Healer Bigelow.

"Hello, Harry, and a very happy birthday to you," she said with a smile.  "You were awake for our first meeting, but you probably don't recall it."

"Er, not really," Harry admitted.

"Ah, if you don't mind, Mr. Potter, I do need to look you over," Healer Bigelow interrupted.

The examination was perfunctory.  After listening to Harry's heart, peering into his eyes, and asking what sounded to Harry like general questions, the healer seemed satisfied.

"Excellent.  I don't detect any signs of lingering poison," he said.  "You can go ahead and ask your questions now, Ardoc."

Professor Bellaton was disappointed to learn that Harry had never seen the 'Mortisons'.  "I really don't think Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon knew what the potion was," Harry said earnestly.  "They don't like me at all, but they'd never try to kill me."

"Well, they admitted that they got it from their neighbors, and that they never bothered to ask what it contained," said Bellaton.  "I've spoken with them myself, and I happen to agree with you.  They're stupid, but not evil."

Harry laughed in disbelief.  "You spoke with the Dursleys like a real person?"

"Your aunt tried to sneak up on me with a frying pan," Bellaton snorted, "but I was quicker.  Gave them quite a fright, and a lecture they won't soon forget.  I couldn't believe it when they didn't even know about the Dark Lord or your connection to him.  Terrified them out of their wits, I did, but it's less than they deserved.  Of course, I look imposing to most wizards, too.  I don't think they're keen on letting you back into their home."

"Like I want to go back," Harry said, filling his words with all the venom he felt.  "It's not as if there's anything to look forward to – being on Dudley's diet, doing chores all day long…"

"You're in luck," Professor Thornby said.  "You aren't going back, at least not for the rest of the summer."

"All right!" Harry exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.  The adults all smiled, but Professor Thornby held up a hand.

"The headmaster has decided that it's too dangerous for you there now.  The Death Eaters assaulted the wards around your house en masse, knowing full well that we would respond within seconds.  If you have no objections, you'll be staying here until your term begins."

"Great!  Anywhere's better than Privet Drive," Harry said.

"Very good.  But you should know that you will bear close watching from now on," Professor Thornby said.  "Voldemort has failed to kill you many times, and he is growing frustrated and angry.  He's turning to assassins to do the job for him.  The Blakes were only the first, and they nearly succeeded.  Others will follow, and you mustn't take them lightly."

Reluctantly, Harry nodded, knowing that she was right.  If assassins were trying to get to him, he wasn't the only one who would be in danger – Ron and Hermione could get caught in the crossfire.  _There goes my freedom_, he thought.  _But at least I'm not going back to the Dursleys!_

"I'm glad that you agree with the headmaster's decision, Harry," Professor Thornby said.  "Well!  Now that we have that taken care of, is there anything that you need or want?"

"Can I ask you something?" Harry blurted.

Professor Thornby blinked, but nodded.

"Why did Professor Dumbledore send you to get me?  And how did you get Professor Binns to retire?  And why is Professor Bellaton here?"

Bellaton broke in before he could say any more.  "All excellent questions, which we plan to answer tomorrow.  Professor Thornby and I have some things to discuss with you, but now is not the best time."

"Is there anything else?" Professor Thornby asked.

"I could use a wash," Harry said, quickly.

"No kidding," said Lupin, waving his hand in front of his nose.  Bellaton, Healer Bigelow, and Professor Thornby chuckled.  Harry kicked Lupin in the shin.

"I'll have the house-elves draw you a bath, and then perhaps you'll have –"  Harry's stomach growled loudly.  "- Supper," finished Professor Thornby.

"Come on, Harry," said Lupin, smiling at him.  "What are you trying to maim me for?  You have a much-needed bath to walk to."

**********

A golden crescent moon was sinking in the sky.  Harry sat in his chair by the window, sucking on a quill, watching clouds move across its slender face.  A blank piece of parchment lay on a polished board, which was balanced on the arms of his chair.  Hedwig, sitting on the chair's high back, hooted excitedly.  Harry turned away from the moon to look at the creamy paper.  He had decided what to say, and it was time to get on with it.

_Dear Ron,_

This is going to sound weird, but I need you to go off and read this alone, okay?  It's really important.  Don't tell ANYONE what I'm about to say here. I'm writing the same thing to Hermione, but you're the only two.  Burn this when you're done, I'm serious.  Are you alone yet?  Okay, here goes.  I'm not staying with the Dursleys any more this summer.  Dumbledore reckons it's not safe for me there now.  There's more, but I can't say it here.  Don't worry about me though – I'm fine.  You can keep on writing me, but I can't say any more about this until we can all talk in person.  Hope you're having a nice summer.

_Harry_

Harry reread the letter.  It would do.  It was cryptic, but he thought he had made enough of a point of the necessary secrecy that his friends would understand.  He pulled out another piece of parchment, and dashed off a second letter to Hermione, nearly copying Ron's letter word for word.  He stuffed each parchment into envelopes with his friends' names on them.  Hedwig fluttered down to rest on the chair's armrest, and held out her leg.  "Drop them off as quick as you can, won't you?" Harry said to the owl as he tied on the letters.

Hedwig nibbled his finger affectionately.  She hopped onto the windowsill and immediately soared off into the night.  Harry watched her grow smaller and smaller until she was no longer visible.

A knock sounded behind him, and Harry turned his head.  Snape stood in the doorway.  It was the first time Harry had seen him since school had ended.  He was dressed in his usual black, and his hair was as greasy as ever, but his expression was curiously blank.  He carried a small cup in one hand.  "If you have finished writing your letters, Mr. Potter, then Healer Bigelow thinks you ought to retire."

Harry nodded mutely.  Snape's tone had been completely devoid of his usual icy sarcasm.  He sounded almost… normal.

For a long moment, they stared at each other like a pair of strange cats.  Harry suddenly realized that his bed was some distance away, and while he was walking much more easily, his legs were occasionally jelly-like.  Better to ask for help than to fall on his face in front of Snape.  "Um, Professor," he said uncomfortably, "I could use a hand walking across the room."  His face heated, and he waited for the derisive comment he knew was coming.

To Harry's utter amazement, Snape said nothing, but set down the cup and walked over, proffering his hand.  Harry realized that his mouth was hanging open, and he shut it hurriedly.  He stood up, grasped the professor's arm, and they moved forward.

The silence was awkward.  Harry felt as if he ought to fill it, and cast about for something to say.  After all, Snape had come to his aid along with Dumbledore and Healer Bigelow.  "So… are you going to stay here for long?" he asked.  _Ugh,_ he thought, _what kind of a question was that?_

"No," Snape replied, a bit of sourness creeping into his voice.  "I will be returning to Hogwarts in the morning.  There is still much to do in the village, and Madam Pomfrey will be needing some replacement potions."

To Harry's relief, they reached the bed as he finished speaking.  He had not wobbled once.  Harry pulled back his covers and sat down.  Snape handed him the cup.

"Another sleeping potion?" Harry asked.

"Healer Bigelow's orders," Snape said curtly, sounding more like his usual self.  "Drink."

Harry obeyed, and handed back the cup.  Snape turned to go, but Harry, shocked at his own daring, spoke up.  "Wait, Professor –"

Snape turned back around.  Harry took a deep breath.  "I wanted to thank you, sir, for saving my life.  I mean – thank you for bringing the antidote."  He looked uneasily at his teacher.  Did those words sound as stupid to Snape as they did to him?

The Potions Master's expression was unreadable.  "You're welcome, Mr. Potter."  He gave Harry a considering look before turning away.  "_Nox_._"  The lamps went out, and Snape left in a swirl of black fabric, closing the door behind him._

Harry lay back on his pillows, staring up into the darkness, wondering at the exchange.  Dumbledore's words about recent events forcing people to reach understandings floated back to him.  Snape was an ally, however horrible he had been to Harry in the past.  He was in more danger than anyone, acting the perilous role of double agent.  And he had helped save Harry's life, though there was no love lost between them.

Alone in the darkness, Harry came to his own understanding.  

He was asleep within minutes.


	6. The Professors' Proposition

**A/N: **Still not mine. Well, I updated with Chapter 6 but never saw my story appear on the main page, so I'm going to try again. Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Thank you so much for your encouragement. I hope you continue to enjoy. This chapter's a bit longer than the others. The one after this is even longer than that...****

**  **

Chapter 6: The Professors' Proposition

            Harry woke early the next day.  Sunlight and cool morning air were streaming in through the open windows.  He sat up and stretched his arms high above his head, feeling refreshed and very awake.  A folded set of clothes on the nearby chair caught his eye.  He had never seen them before, but who else could they be meant for?  Upon rising and donning the shirt and trousers, he found that they fit him well.  It was a decidedly pleasant sensation to be wearing Muggle clothing that fit properly.

            Harry was relieved to find that his possessions had all been retrieved.  His trunk sat at the foot of his bed, and the Firebolt was propped up against the chair by the window.  Harry opened his trunk, dug out his wand, and stuck it in his pocket.  A light breeze blew into the room, ruffling his unruly hair.  His attention caught, Harry walked over to the open windows.  He took hold of the green curtains and pushed them out of the way, revealing the manor grounds.  Harry's breath caught in his throat.  Last night he had not been able to see things properly, and now the morning light revealed how extensive the property was.  He was looking out over the front lawns; they were rolling, green, and dotted with trees.  Harry could see woods nearby and a small lake near the edge of the trees.

            Harry leaned against the windowsill, completely lost in thought as he gazed at the scene before him.  His stomach growled loudly into the silence, reminding him that he was famished.  Yesterday it had seemed that no matter how much he ate in one sitting, he was always ready for more a few hours later.  Hungry as he was, he found it difficult to turn away from the window and leave the room.

            Harry stepped through the door and found himself staring once again.  He was at the end of a long hallway, in which many doors stood open, sunlight streaming through.  A long, patterned carpet covered the length of the floor.  Paintings hung on the walls between doors, and here and there vases of roses stood on tall tables.  The high ceilings were decorated with ornate plasterwork.  A great staircase with a carved wooden banister stood forward and to Harry's left.  He moved to the stairway and looked down; he was on the third floor.  When he was halfway down the stairs he could see the large foyer below; the two massive front doors were covered in carvings.  A large chandelier hung to the right of the stairs.  Harry stretched his hand out, but it was too far out of reach.

            The sound of voices drifted up to Harry from somewhere downstairs.  When his nose picked up the smell of sausages, he quickened his pace.  Once he reached the first floor, he began weaving his way through the rooms, following the delicious smells.  His stomach growled again as if urging him to hurry.

            Finally, Harry rounded a corner and found himself standing in a room full of potted plants and wicker furniture.  All the adults were sitting in chairs around a long table, with the exception of Snape, who was nowhere to be seen.  _He must already be gone_, Harry thought to himself.

            Lupin looked up from the plate full of rolls he was holding.  "Good morning, Harry!" he said.  The others raised or turned their heads to look at Harry.  Every face bore a smile.

            "Come and have a seat," Professor Thornby said, indicating an open chair next to Sirius.  "We're just about to start breakfast."

            Harry sat, and Sirius positively beamed at him.  He watched like a hawk as Harry took a little bit of everything.  "Is that enough?" he asked, when Harry stopped piling food on his plate.  "You need to get your strength back."

            Harry looked sideways at his godfather.  "Yes, mother," he said.

            Lupin made a choking sound and appeared to be trying not to spit out his mouthful of orange juice.  His shoulders shook with silent laughter.  Healer Bigelow began to chuckle, and even Dumbledore was smiling openly.  Bellaton threw back his head and roared, and Professor Thornby tried to hide her smiles in her goblet.  Sirius scowled at them all for a few moments before giving up and joining in the general mirth.  As Harry laughed around a mouthful of toast, his heart felt lighter than it had in months.

            Harry spent most of breakfast watching the other adults and listening to them talk.  Professor Thornby in particular held his attention.  Harry upgraded his opinion – she wasn't just pretty, she was very pretty, and it was even more obvious by the way Lupin and Sirius looked in her direction a little too often.  They looked at Professor Thornby with admiration, but Harry looked at her with curiosity.  He very much wanted to know why Dumbledore had sent someone he'd never met to look in on him.  Even more than that, he wondered why she would have risked her own life to save his.

            After breakfast, Healer Bigelow took his leave, claiming the need to help with the reconstruction of Hogsmeade.  The healer was all smiles and joviality as he shook Harry's hand, and with a few last words of farewell to the others, he Disapparated.

Harry was overjoyed to hear that Sirius and Lupin intended to stay for at least a few more days.  Neither cared to show his face in Hogsmeade – Lupin because too many people knew what he was, and Sirius because he was still a hunted criminal.  As friendly as his new teachers seemed, Harry felt easier knowing that he would have old friends with him for a little while longer.

            "Well!" Dumbledore said briskly.  "We have some important matters to discuss with you, Harry, and I don't think they should wait any longer.  I intend to return to Hogwarts in a few hours, myself.  Shall we have our talk in the garden?  It is a beautiful morning."

            The six of them headed out through a door at the back of the house.  Harry tried to look every direction at once as they walked.  From the outside, it was clear that the building was a large manor house, of the sort that lords used to have when they were very rich and the peasants were very poor.  Professor Thornby saw Harry looking around and spoke up.  "I call Alverbrooke my home, but it doesn't belong to me.  It has been the property of the Headmaster of Hogwarts almost since the school was founded.  It has been passed from Headmaster to Headmaster ever since.  I don't think that the Ministry of Magic even remembers that it exists anymore."

"This is _your _house?" Harry asked, addressing Professor Dumbledore.

"As long as I am Headmaster," he replied.  "When I retire I shall pass it on to the next one.  It has been used for many purposes by its different owners over the years.  I use it as a dwelling for some of my trusted friends."

Harry looked back at Professor Thornby.  She nodded, and so did Bellaton.  "I live here, too," he said.  "There are a few others, but everyone else is off in foreign lands at the moment.  That's fine with me.  Less people hogging the hot water in the morning."

"It's a very curious old house," Professor Thornby continued.  "Many of the headmasters and headmistresses left their own stamp on it; some enjoyed Herbology, others Astronomy, and just about anything else you can name.  The result is now a great hodgepodge of rooms full of enchantments."

            They entered a large garden with winding stone paths and huge banks of flowers all around.  A riot of colors assaulted Harry's eyes.  "This is the wildflower garden," Bellaton said.  "The house-elves tend it, and we generally leave the selection of flowers up to them.  It's one of the few things they seem to enjoy doing that doesn't generally involve looking after humans."

            They walked along the winding paths until they came to a bank of rosebushes.  Dumbledore took a seat on a stone bench, and the others followed his lead.  Sirius took the second seat on Harry's bench, and Harry smiled inwardly.  He didn't think Sirius would hardly let him out of his sight while they were in the same house, but he didn't mind.  They had years of separation to make up for, after all.

            Dumbledore began right away.  "I do not have long to linger here, so I will get right to the point.  Harry, Voldemort has used you to return to a proper body, but I fear you may find yourself in more danger than ever.  Many things that can be magically done can be _undone _as well.  What I mean is that you can be used to destroy Voldemort."

Something Dumbledore had said tugged at Harry's ear.  "What do you mean, I can be used?" he asked.

Professor Bellaton spoke up.  "You could be made captive by someone and used as a component of a spell to finish off the Dark Lord," he said.  "Most people prefer not to believe that he has returned, but eventually they will have to face facts.  When they do, some may want to sacrifice you for what they see as the greater good."

"You're in danger from both sides," Sirius said.  "Voldemort wants you dead.  He knows that you can still destroy him.  And you're in danger from anyone who's smart enough to figure out how you can be used to do just that."

"We don't think that many people will realize how to use you, because few have heard the story of how Voldemort was reborn," Bellaton continued.  "There are some that will put two and two together, though, and if they have small minds and a singular purpose, they can be dangerous."

Harry suddenly understood.  "Fudge," he said.

No one answered him, but the silence was deafening.

"Am I the... the only person who can stop Voldemort?" Harry asked quietly.

"No," Dumbledore said.  "There are many ways to put an end to him.  None of them are simple.  You must understand that Voldemort does not see you merely as a threat to his existence.  He hates you out of principle, because you survived his curse and broke his power.  I think the incident with the Dragonthistle Potion has made it clear that he is not finished with you."

A silence fell over the group.  Harry saw all the adults looking at him, trying to see how he was taking the news.  He felt overwhelmed and tired.  Was there ever going to be a time when someone wasn't trying to kill him?

He didn't realize he had spoken aloud until Dumbledore answered his thought.  "Someday soon, we all hope," he said.  "You have lived through more than anyone should have to go through in two lifetimes, Harry, and yet you have always shown a strength and maturity beyond your years.  We will not allow you to be sacrificed as a convenient end to these difficult times, and we will not allow Voldemort to destroy you."

            Harry looked up.  Dumbledore smiled at him in a reassuring way.  Sirius was positively beaming with pride.  "Okay," he said, letting out the breath he'd been holding.  "Thanks."

            "We have a proposition for you," Bellaton said.  Professor Dumbledore has asked Celeste and myself if we would be willing to be your bodyguards."

            "_Bodyguards?"_ Harry said incredulously.   "Malfoy will never let me hear the end of it," he moaned.

            "No, no, Harry," Bellaton said.  "No one else would know.  Well, except for Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, I suppose.  You shouldn't have to keep secrets from them."

            "Professor Thornby would be your primary guardian," Dumbledore said.  "Her duty will be to protect you.  She will make a refreshing change in your History of Magic class, I expect, but that is merely an excuse for her to be at Hogwarts.  Professor Bellaton will be sworn to guard the entire student body.  With Voldemort back, the other students will need protection as well."

            Harry looked over at Professor Thornby, who had been sitting silently with Lupin.  She looked back at him calmly.  "I won't be hovering over your shoulder night and day, but as your guardian, I'll know when you are in danger, and will always be watching out for you.  I am yours, if you wish it."

            "How do I know I can trust you?" Harry said.  "I trusted Moody, and then it turned out that he wasn't Moody after all.  Cedric's dead because I trusted him," he finished bitterly.

            "Cedric Diggory is not dead because you trusted someone," Dumbledore said firmly.  "The blame can be laid at the feet of Voldemort and no one else.  He is cunning, and it is wise to always have your wits about you even in the best of times.  You had your wits about you, Harry, and there is no way you could have foreseen what befell you and Cedric.  Your trust in others may ultimately be the most powerful weapon you have against the shadow."  
            "If she swears to you, you'll know the moment she is false," Lupin said.  It was the first time he had spoken since entering the garden.

            "That is true," Dumbledore said.  "You cannot have a sworn guardian who is not wholly yours."

            Celeste Thornby stood up.  She carefully placed her wand on the bench where she had been sitting, and folded her hands at her waist.  "It's your decision, Harry," she said.

            Harry looked at her.  He needed a reason.  "Why you?" he asked.

            "I have no doubt that Sirius or Remus would be glad to serve as your guardian, but unfortunately, they can barely show their faces in public," she said.  "Even if they could, they would be too obvious a choice.  You need someone no one will suspect, and few History of Magic teachers are very skilled in defense."

"Most people look at a pretty woman and are distracted by her face.  They're less likely to think there might be more beneath the surface than if she were a man."  Lupin stopped speaking, and everyone turned to look at him.  Sirius and Bellaton were grinning like madmen.  A blush stained Lupin's cheeks under everyone's scrutiny, but it was Professor Thornby he looked at.  She smiled slightly and looked away.  Harry thought she looked pleased.

"Albus has trusted me for many years," she continued.  "He is the wisest wizard I have ever known, and he thinks very well of you.  His wish is my command, and he thinks you need someone to watch your back."

            "Please stop.  You're making me blush," Dumbledore said.

            Professor Thornby laughed.  So did Harry and everyone else.

            "If Albus has such a high opinion of you, then you must be a rare sort of person.  It would be my honor to be your guardian."  She smiled at Harry then, a real smile.

            The honesty in her face convinced Harry, and he nodded.  "If Professor Dumbledore trusts you_,_ then so do I," he said.

            "Then I will swear to you," she said, and strode forward.  She knelt smoothly in front of Harry, who was still seated on his bench.  She reached forward and took both of his hands, placing them together as if in prayer.  Her own hands closed around them.  Harry was so shocked that he tried to pull back, but she held on tightly.

            Dumbledore stood up and moved to stand beside the kneeling professor.  Sirius rose and stood behind Harry.  "Sirius and I are witnesses," Dumbledore said.  "I am a witness for Celeste, and Sirius is a witness for you.  Are you ready?"  Harry nodded numbly.

            Dumbledore pointed his wand at Professor Thornby.  "_Aegis Datoris,_" he said.  He pointed his wand at Harry and said, "_Aegis Receptoris._"  The air around Harry seemed to thicken, and Professor Thornby began to speak.

            "I swear before God and man that I will watch over and defend you, Harry Potter, from danger and death, with all that I have, unto my last breath."

            The feeling of thickness grew harder, and Harry felt it constrict.  It grew tighter and tighter, and Harry realized that it was sinking into him.  His entire body felt warm, and his skin tingled.  Professor Thornby shuddered slightly, and Harry was instantly aware of her in a way that he hadn't been before.  He could sense her proximity in his head, and it had nothing to do with the fact that he could see her kneeling right in front of him.  The feeling was _soft_, in a way, and somehow Harry knew that he could trust her with his life.  He stared at her, wide-eyed, feeling those new sensations.

            She stood up, and Sirius reached out to give Harry's shoulder a firm squeeze.  "Wow," was all Harry could say.  Professor Thornby pressed his hands between hers and released them.  "We're going to have to get to know each other a little better," she said.

            Dumbledore smiled at them both, looking very pleased.  "I will certainly rest easier now that I know you have a guardian, Harry," he said.

            "So will I," Sirius said gruffly, and Lupin nodded his agreement.

As they left the garden and headed back to the house, Harry's mind was working overtime.  _Guardians._  This was going to take some getting used to.


	7. A Real Summer Vacation

**A/N: **Well, chapter six was posted a few days ago, but it never seemed to appear on the main updates page. Let's hope that this one makes it there. One thing I've been wanting to say: please pardon my Latin, if you're a scholar. I don't know anything about stems or gender of Latin vocabulary, so I just do the best I can. Most of you have probably noticed how JKR names her spells; they usually describe what it does – in Latin. Mine are named in the same way.****

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Chapter 7: A Real Summer Vacation

            As soon as the party entered the house, Dumbledore took his leave.  "I must leave you all for now," he said.  "There is much to be done in Hogsmeade yet."  He shook hands with the men and nodded to Professor Thornby.  Finally he turned to Harry.  "I want you to know that I am completely at your disposal, Mr. Potter," he said.  "Feel free to contact me about anything at all."  Harry assured the headmaster that he understood, and Dumbledore was soon gone.

Harry spent most of the day exploring the house and grounds with Sirius and Lupin.  His father's old friends filled him in on what they had been doing for the past month.

"Dumbledore has had us hopping all over Britain," Sirius said.  They were strolling through a gallery, and he seemed half absorbed in the portraits of headmasters and headmistresses of the past.  Like the paintings in Dumbledore's office, most of the people in them were asleep.  "I have to travel in disguise to avoid starting another manhunt for me, but Remus goes as himself."

"We found the graveyard where Voldemort was reborn, of course," Lupin put in.  "There were no clues there as to his present whereabouts, though.  Most of the time I feel as if we're blind mice chasing the cat about.  Every now and then we find some leads, but they don't get us very far.  I'm afraid we're only going to be able to move forward after he strikes again."

They did not focus on such dark topics for long.  The house was full of wonderful things, and the sunlight streaming in through the windows was too cheerful.   The music room contained volumes and volumes of musical scores and instruments that played themselves upon command.  There was a library, full of fat, leather-bound tomes, and a potions laboratory, where one wall was completely lined with vials of every size, shape, and color.  The solarium on the first floor was full of rare and delicate magical plants.  Blossoming orchids on vines climbed everywhere, and the air was full of the smell of damp earth.  One of Harry's favorites was a domed room where the walls, ceiling, and floor all vanished once the door was shut, making it seem to the occupants that they were standing in midair.  The large brassbound telescope in the very center gave away the purpose of that room.   Harry, Sirius, and Lupin were all impressed by the ballroom, with its lavishly decorated walls, delicate chandeliers, and dark wood floor that had been polished until it shone.  Hours passed unmarked by any of them as they discovered one curiosity after another.

Later that evening, after dinner, a snowy owl came soaring in through an open window clutching two letters in her claws.  "Hedwig!" Harry exclaimed.  He stroked her feathers and untied her small bundle.  Hedwig hooted gratefully while he fed her some bits of a wheat roll.  She soared off through the same window to hunt for a more filling dinner, and Harry retreated to a solitary couch in the next room to read his letters.

The first one had the word "Harry" written on the envelope in Ron's sprawling hand, but it was even messier than usual.  Harry excitedly tore open the envelope and pulled out the parchment inside, which looked like it had just been stuffed in any which way it would go.

_Dear Harry,_

_I don't know what you're on about, but I burned your letter like you asked.  Fred and George said I was sneaking around and thought it was a love letter, the stupid gits.  They chased me all over the Burrow before I got it in the kitchen fire.  Then they saw me writing back to you and they thought I was answering the love letter and I had to run off to get this done.  The clock says I'm bloody lost and Mum is probably losing her head right now, so I hope you're happy.  Well, whatever happened to you, I hope you're really okay.  Hey, you don't have to stay with the Dursleys anymore, so it can't be all bad, can it?   Maybe Dumbledore will let you stay with us for the rest of the summer!  We can all play Quidditch and Bugger I hear Fred and George_

_Ron_

Harry laughed and folded up the crumpled paper neatly.  Poor Ron.  Somehow he always managed to look guilty at the worst times.  Hermione's letter, by contrast, was neat and tidy as always.

_Dear Harry,_

_That was quite a strange letter I just got.  There hasn't been anything in the Daily Prophet about you.  Whatever has happened, Professor Dumbledore must be trying to keep it quiet.  Not that he'd have to try too hard – everyone's still talking about Hogsmeade.  I put a match to your letter, so don't worry.  I hope you can tell us more soon, and that wherever you are, it's nicer than being at the Dursleys'.  Can we really come and see you?  It would be great to spend the summer together!  Please write whenever you can._

Love, Hermione__

"Letters from your friends?"

Harry looked up.  Bellaton stood in the doorway, filling it with his height and his presence.  "Ron and Hermione," Harry said.

Bellaton nodded.  "Celeste and I had a talk with Albus while you were still recovering.  We're only going to be able to keep you entertained for so long.  Within a few weeks, we may be able to arrange for them to come and visit you."

Harry felt as if someone had been reading his thoughts.  "How did you know –" he began.

"A young man your age, stuck in a house with his teachers for the rest of the summer?  It wasn't hard to figure out."  Bellaton smiled broadly, his perfect white teeth framed by his jet-black mustache and short, thin beard.  "Albus is going to start making the preparations as soon as possible.  With luck, they'll be able to stay here until the start of term."

Harry let out a whoop; he couldn't help himself.  Bellaton merely grinned again and continued.  "We may have to let all the resident Weasleys in on the goings-on after all, but Albus thinks that they can all be convinced of the need for secrecy.  After all, if we tell them he's off to visit you, no one will buy it.  They know what the Dursleys are like.  Pity that I do, too," he added dryly.

"Something exciting going on in here?" Lupin said, trying to peek over Bellaton's shoulder.

"We'll never know, not with this great lump in the way," said Sirius' voice.

"If you two old dogs want to get by, all you need do is sit nicely and wag your tails," Bellaton said, turning to let them through.

"Padfoot will roll over and play dead for treats," Lupin said, elbowing Sirius in the ribs.  

"Moony's not very domesticated," Sirius retorted.  "He'll just make a mess of the carpet."

 "Shut up, Padfoot, or I'll have Ardoc here leash you and take you for a walk."  Bellaton roared with laughter.

"Really, now," Sirius said, "all I want is to see if Harry wants to play some Quidditch."

"Coming!" Harry said eagerly, jumping up from his chair.

"Are you in, Ardoc?" Sirius asked.

"I played Keeper for the Gryffindor house team during my time at Hogwarts," the big man said.

"Smashing," Sirius said.  "Then you're Keeper, and Harry's Seeker.  Moony?"

"I'll be a Chaser," Lupin said.

"Oi, Celeste!" Bellaton boomed, looking back into the other room.

A few moments passed before she came walking up to them.  "Can't you ever just come looking for me?  It's much more polite," she said peevishly.

"Sorry - Quidditch brings out the ruffian in me.  Do you want Chaser or Beater?" Bellaton said.

"Chaser, of course," she said.  "You know I'm no good with those little sticks.  I always seem to miss the Bludgers."

"That makes me the Beater," Sirius said in tones of deepest satisfaction.

"Have some pent-up emotion to thrash out, Padfoot?" Lupin asked.

"Capital!" Bellaton said, leaving Sirius with an open mouth and an indignant expression.  "Front lawns in five minutes."

Harry was the first one to set foot on the grass.  He mounted his Firebolt and kicked off as hard as he could, luxuriating in the feel of the cool evening air rushing past his face.  One of the things he missed most during the summer was flying; it was wonderful to be off the ground again.  He flew a few laps around the lawn, getting reaccustomed to his broom.

"You look like a duck in water," Sirius said, soaring up beside Harry.

"That's what everybody says," Harry replied.

"Don't get too cocky.  I hear Ardoc was nicknamed "The Wall" when he was at Hogwarts, and I'm a fair Beater, if I do say so myself."

And Harry found himself playing Quidditch on the front lawns of Alverbrooke on a beautiful summer's evening.  Professor Bellaton proved that he had earned his nickname; Lupin and Professor Thornby had a hard time getting anything past him, even though she was nimble on her broom and Lupin dodged Sirius' Bludgers with a practiced air.  Sirius' skill stopped Harry from catching the Snitch more than once.  The tiny golden ball led him a merry chase, soaring all over the lawns, around trees and skimming along the ground.  When Harry finally caught it, he was amazed to see that it was nearly dark.

"How can you see that thing in this light?" Lupin said as he landed gently on the grass.

Harry shrugged.  "I just keep my eye on it."

Bellaton snorted.  "And it's just that easy!"

They headed back inside, Bellaton, Lupin, and Sirius sparring all the way.

**********

Three days passed at Alverbrooke with little excitement, which was just fine with everyone.  Harry spent nearly every waking moment with Sirius and Lupin.  Celeste Thornby joined them for a short while every day, getting to know Harry.  She would spend at least an hour with them, but not much more; she claimed not to want to spoil Harry's reunion with his godfather.

During their walks through the gardens together, Harry had already learned a great deal about Professor Thornby.  Voldemort had killed her family shortly before his curse on Harry backfired.  Like Harry's own parents, they had been marked for execution, and had chosen to stand their ground and fight rather than flee.  She had been seventeen at the time, and just ready to graduate from Hogwarts.  The shock had crushed her, and Dumbledore provided a willing ear and a shoulder to cry on.  It wasn't long before she was completely devoted to him, and found herself living at Alverbrooke.

"The murder of my family inspired me to study defense and combat spells," she said to Harry one afternoon.  They were sitting in the breakfast room having tea with Sirius and Lupin.  "I discovered that I was born to be a soldier.  I don't mean to boast when I say that I am very good at it.  The more I learned, the more I wanted to know.  When I felt that I had learned all the modern spells I could, I started digging through dusty old books looking for more.  We've amassed quite a collection of those around here."

"Hermione Granger is going to like you," Lupin said over his teacup.

"I learned quite a bit during those years," she continued.  "Take _Donum__ Vitae,_ for example.  Ardoc was my study partner and my mentor most of the time; he's quite good with the same type of magic himself.  Hence our selection by Albus as protectors of you and the rest of the students," she said to Harry.  "I hope we can be useful to you, should the occasion arise.  We know spells that have been long forgotten by the wizarding world."

"It's nice to know spells that no one knows the counterspell for," Sirius said with a wicked grin.

"Absolutely.  But I wouldn't count on that; Voldemort has allies who delight in the same sort of study.  Our strongest asset is still surprise.  We don't think that the Dark Lord is aware of the four of us.  I don't know when you'll meet John and Christabel.  They're the others I told you about."

Harry was leaning forward in his chair, intrigued.  "Will you teach me?" he asked.

She smiled, her eyes lighting up.  "Ardoc and I were going to suggest that," she said.  "We will be teaching your classmates a good deal of defensive magic, but it won't hurt for you to start early."  She paused for a moment before speaking again, her face grown serious.  "You have effectively put your life in my hands, Harry, so I feel that you should know everything important about me before I begin teaching you.  There is something else, but I'm not sure how to say it."

Sirius and Lupin exchanged glances and sat up a little straighter.

Professor Thornby suddenly seemed very interested in her teacup.  "During our study of archaic spells, Ardoc and I discovered that we both have a very unique ability," she said.

There was a pause.  "Which is...?" Sirius said, gesturing with one hand.

She looked up from her tea at Harry.  "I am a Singer," she said.

Harry had no idea what she was talking about, so he looked to Lupin and his godfather for clues.  They sat in nearly identical positions, heads tilted at exactly the same angle, mouths open exactly the same amount.  One of Lupin's eyebrows was arched.  "Okay," Harry said.

She smiled in amusement.  "I gather you don't know what a Singer is," she said.

"No," Harry said.  "But then again, people seem to forget that I grew up with Muggles and don't bother to tell me about these things."

"Singers," Sirius said shortly, "aren't exactly common anymore, and that might be a very good thing."

Professor Thornby's mouth tightened.  "That would depend on the Singer," she said.

Harry looked back and forth between them.  Sirius was clearly upset.  "So what can you do?" he asked.

"There are some spells that can't be spoken.  They are Songs, and only certain people can Sing them," Professor Thornby answered.  "You have to be born with the ability to learn."

"Hullo," Bellaton said, walking into the room.  "You won't mind if I join you?"

Sirius glared up at him, but Lupin gestured to an empty chair.  "Sit," he said calmly, earning a second glare from Sirius.

Bellaton poured himself a cup of tea, added milk and sugar, and sat down.  "Aaaahhh," he said, leaning back and stretching his legs out before him.  "Just what the healer ordered."  He looked at Sirius, who seemed to be trying to engage Professor Thornby in a staring match.  "So you've told them, have you?"

"She told us," said Lupin.

"Sirius, what's wrong with you?" Harry said.

"We're not born evil, you know," Bellaton said.

Harry couldn't help his exasperation.  "What _are_ you talking about?"

"A long time ago, there was a Dark Lord named Atragar who managed to ally most of the existing Singers with him," Bellaton said.  "There are some Songs that cannot be counteracted except with another Song.  With so many dark Singers, there weren't enough uncorrupted ones left to fight them.  History records a great slaughter at the Battle of Bishop's Lynn.  Ever since then, people have remembered the destruction a Singer is capable of as opposed to the good deeds they can perform."  Sirius shifted his frown back to Bellaton, but Bellaton affected not to notice.

"Oh," Harry said.

"Singers are widely distrusted," Professor Thornby said sadly.  "Few people know what Ardoc and I can do.  Most people wouldn't give us the time of day if they did."

Lupin was giving Sirius a very disapproving look.  Sirius met his friend's eyes, sighed, and dropped his frown.  "Stop looking at me like that, Remus, I know you're right," he said irritably.  "I'm sorry.  I can't help remembering the stories I heard growing up, but I have to admit that I don't think you're any danger to Harry.  Why didn't you just tell us sooner?"

"That was my call," Bellaton said.  "I thought you would refuse our help without even bothering to hear us out if you knew.  Perhaps I should have given you the benefit of the doubt."

"It's all right," Sirius said wearily, waving the apology away.  "I might have done just that."

"At least one of the Death Eaters is a Singer," Professor Thornby said.  "I hope it will make you feel better to know that someone will be able to fight them."

Sirius nodded.

"You don't seem to be bothered by this," she said to Lupin.

He shrugged.  "I'm a werewolf.  I know what it's like to be reviled because of something you can't change."

"And you, Harry?" she asked.

"It sounds pretty neat to me, really," he said.  "What's a Song like?"

Professors Thornby and Bellaton looked at each other.  "I'm going to try and grow a Bristlebark tree in a few days," he said.  "Perhaps you can see then."

"Okay," Harry said, though he didn't really understand.

At that moment, a rushing sound emanated from the fireplace at the other end of the room.  A great cloud of soot puffed into the air, and Dumbledore stepped out of it, waving his hand in front of his face.

"Professor!" Harry said, surprised.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled down at him.  "Hello, Harry."

"Back so soon?" Bellaton said, twisting around to look.

"I'll have the house-elves see to that fireplace," Professor Thornby said, wincing.  She stood up and moved to brush at Dumbledore's blackened robes.

"Not to worry, my dear, it's quite all right.  My own fireplace is terribly sooty itself.  When I return to Hogwarts I am sure I will be truly filthy."  He turned to Harry.  "I have some good news.  I have spoken with the Grangers and the Weasleys, and they have agreed to let them come here for the rest of the summer."

"When?" Harry exclaimed.  

"On Saturday, at the end of this week," Dumbledore replied.

Harry was thrilled.  "Thank you," he said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Not at all," Dumbledore said.

Harry barely listened as Dumbledore spoke to the others.  He was already off daydreaming about how good it would be to have his friends around again.   It occurred to him that his poisoning might have been a blessing in disguise; after all, it looked like this might turn out to be his first real summer vacation ever.


	8. Pleasant Reunions

**A/N: Not mine, etc., etc.  Here is chapter eight!  Nine is on the way.  I've had a hard time deciding where eight ends and nine begins, but this is the final result.  Many thanks to all my reviewers: k00lgirl1808, Flybird, ****Anynonymouse, AmiBlack, pegoheart144, Skye0906, and Pepperjack.  Thank you all for the encouragement.  A special thanks to k00lgirl1808 for being the first to review, and to Skye0906 for all the detailed and wonderful comments.  You all make my day!  I hope you continue to enjoy!**

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Chapter Eight: Pleasant Reunions

"They're late," Harry complained.

"Be patient," Professor Thornby said at his shoulder.  "They'll get here when they get here."

Harry sighed, knowing she was right.  Somehow, knowing didn't make waiting any easier.  All five of them were standing in the breakfast room facing the fireplace.  The house-elves had spent the better part of a morning cleaning it.  It wasn't really work to them; they had been all too happy to oblige, and there was not a speck of soot to be seen.

Long minutes dragged by until even the adults began to shift their weight a bit.  Bellaton pulled a pocketwatch from his robes and glanced at the face.

Green flames roared up in the fireplace.  Harry, who was nearest, put up a hand to shield his face from the sudden brightness.  The fire subsided, and Arthur Weasley stood where it had been.  "Hello, Harry!" he said, striding forward.  "Glad to see you're looking so well."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said.

"Good lord!" Mr. Weasley exclaimed.  "You must be Sirius Black."

Sirius raised an eyebrow and smiled thinly.

"How do you do?" Mr. Weasley said, taking Sirius' hand and shaking it enthusiastically.  "Dumbledore filled us in, of course, but it's still a bit of a shock.  Glad to hear you didn't do it.  Nasty business, that."

Sirius' eyes widened, and his face broke into a real smile.  "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Weasley."

The appearance of more green flames halted the introductions.  Hermione fairly flew out of the fireplace to throw her arms around Harry.

"Oof!  Hi, Hermione!"

"Harry!" she exclaimed.  "Oh, it's wonderful to see you!  We've been _so_ worried.  Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine!" Harry laughed.  "You sound just like Madam – oof!"

Ron had emerged from the fireplace and had Harry in a crushing grip.  "Hiya, Harry!" he said, grinning from ear to ear.  "We're finally here!"

"Hello, Ron!  All right?"

"All right," Ron said happily.  "Sorry we're late.  Mum insisted on sending food with us." He pulled a jar out of a large leather sack.  "Tomato preserves."  He looked up and saw the adults for the first time.  "Sirius!" he exclaimed.

Hermione turned and saw them too.  "Professor Lupin!"

"But you didn't say anything about them!" Ron said.

"We wanted to surprise you," Lupin said with a smile.  "Ron.  Hermione.  How are you both?"

"Very well, thanks," Hermione said.  "And you?"

"Can't complain," Lupin said.  "How about you, Sirius?  Can you complain?"

"Not at all," Sirius said.

Harry looked over to their new professors.  They stood patiently, watching the happy reunions.  It was up to him to make the introductions.  "Um.  Mr. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, these are Professors Ardoc Bellaton and Celeste Thornby.  They're new teachers this year."

Another round of handshakes and pleasantries was exchanged.

"Well..." Harry said uncertainly.

"Go on, Harry," Professor Thornby said.  "We'd like to talk for a bit before Mr. Weasley leaves."

"See you in Diagon Alley in a month, son," Mr. Weasley said.

"'Kay.  Bye, dad!" Ron said, already starting to move.

"Goodbye, Mr. Weasley!" Harry and Hermione called.

"Come on!" Harry said, and he, Ron, and Hermione took off down the hallway.

"Blimey!  _Two _new teachers!" Ron exclaimed.  He craned his neck to look up at the great staircase and the vaunted ceilings.  "What a house!"

"Dumbledore told us about it," Hermione put in.  "I'm sure it must have a fascinating history!"

"You'll have to talk to the professors about it," Harry said.  "As far as I know, no one has written _Alverbrooke, A History _yet.  Maybe you can be the first."

"Where are we going?" Ron asked.

"The solarium.  It's one of the best spots.  You're going to love this house," he said.  "My absolute favorite room is best seen at night."

They entered the plant-festooned room, and Harry's friends oohed and aahed.  "Oh, I _love_ orchids," Hermione sighed.  "They have amazing properties, you know."

"They're not bad to look at, either," Ron smirked.

"Oh, that most of all," she agreed.

They took seats on cushioned lawn chairs.  "Glad you're not dead, mate," Ron said cheerfully.

"Dumbledore took my parents and me to the Burrow, and we all had a sort of conference there," Hermione said.  "We all heard what happened."

"The Dursleys really _are _daft, aren't they?" said Ron.  "Dumbledore said you almost didn't make it."

"That's what he told me, too," said Harry.  "And no, the Dursleys aren't very bright at all."  He told them the story of the poisoning and the rescue.  Ron and Hermione listened attentively, although it seemed that they had indeed heard most of it before; they nodded along at times.  When he mentioned the attack on Hogsmeade, their heads jerked up.

"You mean that the Death Eaters attacked Hogsmeade just because you got away from them?" said Hermione incredulously.

"Well, yes, I suppose… but Dumbledore seemed to think it would have happened sooner or later anyway.  I guess I was just a catalyst."

"Bugger," Ron breathed.  "Everyone just figured they did it because it was an evil thing to do, and now we know the _real _reason."

"It's not much of a reason, is it?" Harry said sadly.  He continued with the story, and when he mentioned the spell that Professor Thornby had used to save his life, Hermione gasped.

"_Donum Vitae_?" she said.  "Dumbledore didn't tell us _that_.  That's incredibly advanced magic!"

"You've heard of it?" Harry asked, surprised.

"It's mentioned briefly in our history book for this year," she said.  "About how so many people died trying to cast it and all."

"Cool," Ron said.  "You mean there's something other than goblin rebellions in those books?"

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said.  "There's lots of interesting things in them!  It's just that Professor Binns picks the dullest topics."

"History of Magic is going to be a little different this year," Harry said.  "No more goblin rebellions."

"No way!" Ron exclaimed.  "How do you know?"

"Professor Thornby is taking over," Harry grinned.  "She says she's going to run the class in tandem with Professor Bellaton's Defense Against the Dark Arts class."

Ron and Hermione looked at one another and exchanged excited smiles.  "Now that _is_ good news," Ron said.  "How on earth did they get rid of Professor Binns?"

"Something about sending him off to a Great Library somewhere to look for some vital information," Harry said.  "I don't know how long it will keep him busy, but he won't be teaching for this year at least."

"So what are they like?" Hermione asked.  "Professors Bellaton and Thornby, I mean."

"They're great," Harry said.  "You'll like them, Hermione, they know lots of things that most people have forgotten.  Professor Bellaton is lots of fun.  He's always laughing about something.  And Professor Thornby is... well, she's nice, and very smart."

"She's absolutely ripping," Ron said.

Hermione gave him a sharp look.  "Ripping?  And what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that half the boys in school are going to be drooling on their parchment instead of listening to her lecture," Ron said, shrugging.

"Nope," Harry said.  "They'll learn right quick.  She expects you to pay attention.  I think she can be as strict as McGonagall when she wants to be."

"What are you talking about, Harry?" Ron asked.

"They're starting up the Dueling Club again this year," Harry said.  "I've been getting a few advance lessons."

"What?  Now how is that fair?" Ron exclaimed.

"Well, they figured I could use all the help I could get," Harry said.  He couldn't help smiling a little.  

"That makes sense," Hermione said.  "But there's something I don't understand – why did Dumbledore send the new History of Magic teacher to get you from the Dursleys?"

Harry sighed.  "It's a secret," he said.  "I can tell you, but you can't breathe a word to anyone else.  Seriously.  She might be killed if anyone found out."

"We understand," Hermione said, and Ron nodded.  "Go ahead and tell us."

"She's my guardian," Harry said.  "After I got better she took an oath to protect me with her life.  That's why she's really at Hogwarts.  The teaching job is just a front."

His friends were silent for a moment.  Hermione's unfocused eyes stared ahead at nothing.  Harry could almost see the wheels turning in her head.  Ron merely looked poleaxed.  "That's incredible, Harry," Hermione said at long last.  "A complete stranger who's willing to give her life for you?"

"It _is_ kind of romantic, isn't it?" Ron said.

"Sod off, Ron," Harry said.  Ron sniggered, and Harry couldn't help joining in.

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "Seriously, though," she said.  "It's wonderful that Dumbledore is doing something to protect you after all that's happened, but how do you know you can trust her?"

"I just know," Harry said.  "Dumbledore cast a spell on us when she swore.  Bellaton says it's called a Binder.  She's… in my head somehow.  Remus said I'd know if she turned against me."

"In your head like… like she knows what you're thinking?" Ron said.

Harry shook his head.  "No, but I can tell when she's close by."

Ron frowned.  "Do you know what this means, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry sighed.  "No more sneaking out."

"Exactly," Ron said.

"How can either of you even consider doing that anymore?" Hermione said indignantly.  "You just told us that assassins are after you, Harry.  You don't want to go making their job easier for them."

"Don't worry," Harry said.  "I won't.  You're going to have to watch yourselves, too.  It's no secret that we're best friends."

"Wow," Ron said.  "Assassins after the famous Harry Potter, and maybe his two best mates.  It might be exciting if it wasn't us we were talking about."

"Well, you'll have a guardian, too, sort of.  Bellaton's going to be the protector of all of the students," said Harry.

"Bit imposing, isn't he?" Hermione said.  "He's going to look huge next to anyone except Hagrid."

"Not once you get to know him," Harry said.  "You wouldn't guess it to look at him, but Herbology must have been his favorite subject.  He spends a lot of time in here working with the plants.  I don't think he's afraid of anything.  Just wait until you duel with him!  You'll think you've been hit by a hammer."

"When _we_ duel with him?" Hermione said faintly.  Ron swallowed hard.

"Yeah!  They said they'd give you early lessons, too."  He laughed at his friends' pale faces.  "Don't worry, it's not really that bad.  The combat room is enchanted to keep you from getting hurt.  My disarming spells are already a lot better.  It's loads of fun, I promise."

"Okay," Ron said in a small voice.  "Whatever you say."

**********

That evening Harry showed Ron and Hermione the observatory.  They entered the room after dinner, when the sun was just setting.  The moment the door closed, the walls all vanished as they had before, leaving everyone seemingly standing on nothing with the sky all around.  Ron and Hermione were completely astonished and delighted, just as Harry had hoped.  They sat on the invisible floor and watched twilight fall as they talked.  One by one the brightest stars appeared; more and more appeared as the sky darkened to inky blackness until millions of pinpricks of light surrounded them.  The three of them ended up on their backs, hands behind their heads, staring up at the multitudes above.

"There are so many," Hermione said in a hushed voice.  "They make me feel so small."

"Me too," Harry said.

"This is the bloody coolest thing I have ever seen," Ron said quietly.

Harry stared into the darkness.  The stars twinkled above them like diamonds scattered across a swath of midnight velvet.  "This is going to be the best summer vacation ever," he said.

He couldn't see his friends, but he was sure they were smiling as happily as he was.


	9. New Tricks

**A/N: Thanks for reviews and encouragement, everyone!  They always give my day a boost.  Sorry it's been about a week – I've been busy and probably will continue to be so for a while, but I'll keep working.  As we all know, Book Five comes out in about a week.  I don't know what will happen to the story at that time.  Once I read the book, this may be revised from the beginning to reflect new information and events.  I think it may be hard for me to continue a fifth-year story after I've read the official version.  Well, like I said, this will probably morph into a sixth-year story.  Enjoy!** Chapter Nine: New Tricks 

Harry was as good as his word.  Summer days rolled by in the blink of an eye, each one more pleasant than the last.  There was never a moment of boredom in a place like Alverbrooke.  Time went by and Dumbledore never sent for Lupin or Sirius.  Everyone suspected that the Headmaster was simply trying to let them have some time with Harry and his friends, unmolested.

Nearly every day, Harry, Ron, and Hermione tramped through the small woods on the property, joined often by Lupin and Sirius.  The five of them made trails and collected wild herbs for Professor Bellaton.  He was making a transfiguration potion that sounded very complicated to everyone, even Hermione.  Ever since he had learned that Harry and Ron had never experienced the cultural pleasures of London, he had been hell-bent on taking his young charges out to a concert in town.  "With the Personata Potion, we can all go in disguise," he said, and that was all the explanation he gave.  "You'll have to wait and see how it works."

Quidditch became a routine practice in the late afternoon.  Ron announced that he intended to try out for the vacated position of Keeper on the Gryffindor house team, and Bellaton volunteered to train him.  Hermione seldom joined in; she watched occasionally, but more often than not she spent the time in the gardens with a dusty old volume.  As Harry had expected, Hermione was delighted with the library, while Ron was indifferent at best.  After she spent an entire day inside, Harry and Ron exacted her promise that she could spend no more than two hours there every day.  The result was that Hermione rose well before her friends and spent her mornings rummaging through the books.  She had a never-ending stream of questions for the teachers, both of whom were amazed at her unquenchable thirst for knowledge.

Dueling practice began immediately.  Ron and Hermione were apprehensive on their first day, especially when Bellaton said that he would disarm each of them, one at a time, so they could see how the combat room worked.  Ron went first.  Face pale, hands shaking slightly, he faced Bellaton from across the room.

"Be calm, Ron," Professor Thornby called from the side, where she stood with Harry and a very nervous Hermione.  "You won't be hurt."

"Expelliarmus!" Bellaton shouted.

Ron's wand flew from his hand, but even as he was blasted backwards toward the wall, he slowed to a gentle stop as the air around him solidified.  "Wicked!" he said as his feet gently settled to the floor again.

Hermione brightened visibly, and took her turn with no qualms.  After that, dueling became one of their favorite activities.  The professors had them practicing all manner of disarming and blocking spells, and even a few attacking spells.  Bellaton liked to attack without warning, teaching the three of them to think on their feet.  "You can't trust a dark wizard any farther than you can throw them," he was fond of saying.  "No, not even that far.  Civilized people attack at the same time; you can't count on a dark wizard to wait until you say 'three'."  

One day, Ron expressed interest in the weapons displayed on the walls of the combat room.  Swords of all shapes and sizes, axes, spears, staves, knives, and more covered them.  "Do you know how to use all of those?" he asked, staring up at a particularly wicked looking axe.

"A few," Bellaton said.  "A good soldier should always know how to use more than one weapon.  This is always the first and the best," he said, indicating his wand.

"The best alternate for most wizards is the quarterstaff," Professor Thornby said.  She raised her hand and one flew off the wall, smacking loudly into her palm.  "A wand can be transfigured into something else – knives and staves most easily."  Taking it in both hands, she twirled it in front of her in a practiced way.  "The use of a staff in duels is an uncommon practice now, but it used to be very popular.  The Death Eaters probably know how to use them; Voldemort seems quite fond of the old ways."

Professor Bellaton summoned a second staff off the wall.  He swung it back and forth between his hands a few times before lunging at Professor Thornby with lightning speed.  She pivoted at the same moment, raising her staff to block.  The two lengths of wood met with a loud CRACK.

Hermione gasped; she, Ron, and Harry all jumped.

"Care for a little practice, Celeste?" Bellaton said, grinning wickedly.

Professor Thornby's eyes flashed in a challenging way.  "Why?  Feeling rusty?" she said.

Without warning, they both leapt back from their holding position.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other nervously and backed up all the way to the wall.

The two professors each held one hand out toward the other, palm up, and raised it toward the ceiling.  They lowered their hands and began circling each other, one occasionally probing at their opponent with one end of their staff, which the other blocked quite easily.  And then – crack, crack, crack, crack!  Professor Thornby's quick thrusts were stopped by Professor Bellaton.  She swung her staff at his head, which he ducked.  He leapt up out of his crouch, staff whirling, pressing a counterattack.  She twirled her own staff, backing up, blocking Bellaton's thrusts.  The big man was moving so fast that Harry could hardly follow his movements.

Around and around they danced, jumping over low swipes and leaning backwards out of the way of headshots, staves clacking incessantly against each other.  Harry and his friends stood and watched, entranced by the show before them.  Finally, after a long minute, Professor Thornby failed to block one of Professor Bellaton's thrusts quickly enough.  Quick as lightning, one end of Bellaton's quarterstaff knocked hers aside; the other end swung back to smash into her side.  She suddenly seemed to be enclosed in an envelope of crackling light, and she fell to the floor with a loud "oof!"

Bellaton lowered his staff to his side and leaned on it like a walking stick, catching his breath.  He was smiling broadly.

Harry looked anxiously down at his guardian.  To his surprise, she seemed entirely unhurt; in fact, she was smiling too.  "Touche, Ardoc," she said, breathing heavily.

"What happened when he hit you?" Hermione said, sounding awestruck.

"Did you see us raise shields?" Bellaton said.

"Is that what you were doing with your hands?" Harry asked.

Bellaton nodded.  "They're only temporary.  We use them for practice to keep from being hurt.  One good disarming strike like that destroys the shield completely.  They are useful for real duels, of course, but you might not always have a chance to raise one before the fight begins."

"Once you've been knocked down, you're more or less done for."  Professor Thornby gestured to her partner.  "If he'd wanted to, he could have easily killed me by striking me in the head, or by doing this."  She lay back on the floor, and Bellaton moved to stand over her.  He raised his staff, gently placed the end against her throat, and quickly removed it.  She smiled grimly up at him.  "All he'd have to do is bring it smashing down."

"I don't like doing that," Bellaton said, shaking his head.  "Even when I'm only showing the danger to someone, you're still completely at my mercy."

"Then it's just as well that I can trust you with my life, isn't it?" she said, sitting up.  "It's good that they should see it, Ardoc."

"I know.  Best that they know the worst that can happen."  He offered Professor Thornby his hand to help her up.

"Well fought," said a voice from the doorway.  Everyone turned to look at Sirius and Lupin.  No one had seen them come in.

"You know the staff, Sirius?" Bellaton said, sounding delighted.

"My parents were very wealthy," Sirius said.  "I had the best of instruction."

"Perhaps you'd care for a match?" Bellaton asked.

"Love to – but later, when you're rested," Sirius said.

"Very sporting of you," Bellaton said.  "Don't be fooled by what you just saw.  We each win about fifty percent of the time."

Professor Thornby laughed.  "You don't have to sweeten the numbers that much," she said.  "You win more often than that because you're so big.  It's hard for me to knock you off your feet."

Ron was dancing on his toes, bobbing from side to side.  "When do we start learning _this_?" he asked eagerly.

"Today, if you wish," Professor Thornby said.  She rubbed her side gently.

"Are you all right?" Lupin said.  The concern in his voice was obvious.  "I thought you had a shield up."

"I am perfectly well, thank you," she said, still a touch breathless, her face flushed.  From the exercise, Harry supposed.  "The shield vanishes with the first direct hit.  It's gone by the time you hit the ground."

"We can start today?" Ron said excitedly, as if Lupin had never spoken.  Hermione looked exasperated; Harry just grinned.

"Of course," she said.  "But you'll be starting with the forms.  Your staff won't make contact with another for weeks, at least."

Ron's face fell.  Sirius laughed, and laid a hand on his shoulder.  "Cheer up, Ron.  You'll get to the fancy stuff.  You have to learn to crawl before you can walk."

Every day afterwards, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves learning the basic moves.  As the only adult in the house who didn't know how to fight with a quarterstaff, Lupin looked a bit uncomfortable watching the lessons until Professor Thornby suggested he join in.  It seemed just the invitation he had been waiting for; Lupin was as fast a learner as any of his former pupils.  Most of the forms they learned were numbered, though Sirius said that there were a few special moves with names.  For each of those basic forms, Harry and his friends learned how to set their feet, hold the staff, and move their bodies.  After a week, Bellaton had them all standing in a row, going through the motions while he called out numbers.  When their responses grew quick and sure enough, he allowed them to begin facing each other, one student executing the commanded moves while the other performed the counterstrokes.  The rhythmic clacking of wood on wood became a common sound in the house, but the three students and Lupin found that the staffs seemed to meet flesh as often as they met each other.  Days passed, however, and they began to see the way the forms flowed together, the way attack met counterattack.  As they improved they nursed fewer rapped knuckles and bruised shins.

Professor Thornby was directing the lesson one afternoon, Harry and Hermione gently sparring with each other while Lupin and Ron looked on.

"One!  Seven!  Three!" she called.  Harry, who was defending, quickly moved to comply, while Hermione executed the countermoves – almost flawlessly.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed as the lower half of Harry's staff caught her legs and brought her crashing down to the padded floor.

Professor Thornby stopped calling out numbers.  Harry lowered his staff and pushed hair out of his sweaty face.  Hermione sat on the floor, rubbing her leg and grimacing.  Harry bent over, offering her his hand, which she accepted with a smile.  "Thanks," she said.

"No problem," he replied.  "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she sighed.  "I just can't seem to get that last one right."

"You're doing much better on six, Hermione," Professor Thornby said, walking over.  "Eight is better as well, but you need to work on the finish a bit there."  Hermione nodded, breathing heavily, her damp bangs dangling into her eyes.  "Right, then," the older woman continued.  "Ron, Lupin, it's your turn."

Bellaton and Sirius chose that moment to come striding into the room, their robes billowing behind them.  "The time is now!" the bigger man said, his voice booming around the room.  "Bristlebark tree!  Last chance!"  And he turned around and strode right back again.  Sirius shrugged, grinned roguishly at them all, and followed him out.

The five of them trailed out of the combat room and followed Sirius and Bellaton from the house.  They were led to a back corner of the garden, where Bellaton stopped in front of a large patch of freshly turned earth.  He reached into a pocket in his robes and pulled out a seed about the size of a golf ball.  It was round, dark brown, and covered with long spines.  He squatted beside the patch and picked up a small trowel.  He planted the prickly seed a foot underground and stood back up, brushing the dirt from his hands.

"Don't say anything while I'm working, now," he said.  "Just listen."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione grinned excitedly at each other.

Bellaton drew a few deep, calm breaths, opened his mouth, and began to sing.

The sound that came out was rich and melodious.  The tune was simple but full, the words in another language – Latin, Harry thought.  The notes were gentle and somehow reassuring; it sounded like Bellaton was trying to convince the seed to sprout out of the earth.

A long minute passed, while Bellaton sang on, his wand trained on the spot where he had planted the spiny seed.  Harry, his friends, and the adults all watched the patch of earth intently.  Without warning, a small sprout pushed its way out of the dirt.  They watched in amazement as it grew larger, stretching upward and sprouting new leaves.

Then Bellaton did something extraordinary.  His one voice became two, singing in harmony.  Harry's head whipped around to look first at him and then Professor Thornby.  Everyone else did the same.  She stood calmly, mouth closed, watching the sprout become a sapling.  The listeners looked at each other, but no one except Professor Bellaton was making any noise whatsoever.  Harry listened in amazement as yet another voice joined the chorus, and then another.  What he was hearing simply wasn't possible.  The sapling stretched upward, the thin trunk thickening, branches beginning to divide off.  Leaves burst out all over.  The song became faster, and the tree grew faster with it.  It was taller than Harry now.  Up it stretched, the crown beginning to spread over their heads.  Bellaton increased the tempo more and more, and the tree was truly exploding before their very eyes.  They all stepped backwards as it shot upwards, the trunk thickening more and more, branches spreading, star-shaped leaves blocking the sun.  Professor Bellaton slowed his singing, and the harmony became gentler again; the tree slowed its growth in response.  One by one, the many voices of the chorus began to vanish.  The tempo slowed until they could no longer see the tree growing.  Finally, only one voice was left.  The song ended as simply as it had begun; silence fell.  The only sound was the wind rustling in the leaves of the brand new tree.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, awestruck; Sirius and Lupin looked thoughtful as they gazed at the tree.

"Well done," Professor Thornby said to Professor Bellaton, breaking the silence.

"Thank you," he said.  He cleared his throat.  "That did go well, didn't it?  I haven't grown a tree in quite some time."  He waved his wand and conjured up a glass of water.  "Ahhh," he sighed, taking a long drink.  "I needed that."

"How did you do that?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Multiply your voice," she said.

Bellaton shook his head.  "I don't know how to explain it to you," he said.  "All Singers can do it.  It's mostly a matter of knowing all the parts of the Song and thinking them into being.  And then you just find yourself singing five harmonies or so at once.  The more parts, the harder it is to sing the Song successfully."

"Oh.  All right," Hermione said, looking slightly dazed.

Professor Thornby was looking at them in a searching way.  When Harry caught her eye, she smiled and looked away.  "What do you need the tree for?" he asked.

"The bark of the Bristlebark tree is used in many potions, including Veritaserum," Hermione said.  Professor Thornby smiled at her and nodded.  "The leaves, roots, and sap are also useful, but I don't remember how."

"Better remember this day, Harry," Ron said.  "Hermione has just admitted that she doesn't remember something she read once.  She _is _mortal, after all."

Hermione gave her head an indignant shake.  "It won't happen again anytime soon, Ronald Weasley," she said.

"She's right again, though," Bellaton said.  "They don't put forth seeds very often and take a long time to grow to seed-bearing age.  Time was, Singers were always used to raise them, but there aren't many of us around anymore."

"And you're all out of Veritaserum, are you?" Sirius asked.  He winked at Harry.

"As a matter of fact, no," Professor Thornby said dryly.  "But I understand that Professor Snape is."

No one really had anything to say to a statement like that.

**********

The day finally arrived when Bellaton declared the Personata Potion to be ready.  "The London Symphony Orchestra is performing Scheherazade tomorrow night, and we are all going," he said.  "If I hadn't met those Muggles you grew up with, Harry, I'd never be able to believe that they never took you out in London."

The next evening, they all assembled in the hall wearing their dress robes.  When Ron appeared, Harry was happy to see that he was wearing new dress robes – dark blue with silver trim.  "They're from Fred and George," Ron said, looking enormously pleased.  "They won't tell me where they got the money, and they made me promise not to tell mum about the robes.  You know what that means?"

"Um..." said Harry.

"They sold one of their jokes!  They must have!  There's no other way they could have that kind of money, and that's why they don't want mum to know.  She'd blow her top if she found out they were still working on Ton Tongue Toffees and the like.  I mean, she always suspects, but still."

Harry sighed inwardly, relieved that the twins had kept his secret.  If Ron knew that the robes had been bought with his winnings from the Triwizard Tournament, Ron would die of shame.  Harry fully intended to keep that little something secret.

When they had all assembled, Bellaton presented them all with a small glass of a clear, purplish potion.

"Bottoms up," Lupin said cheerfully, and drained his glass.  The others followed suit.  A few seconds passed while everyone stood around, holding the empty glasses and looking at one another.

"Is something supposed to happen?" Ron said.

"Not until I do this," Bellaton said, moving to stand in front of Ron.  He flourished his wand.  "_Cambio!_"

Bellaton kept his wand trained on Ron.  As Harry watched, Ron's features and clothing began to change.  In moments, a taller, dark-haired young man in a dark suit and tie stood where Ron had been.  The new Ron looked down at his body and back at Professor Bellaton.  "Um... did I miss something?" he said.  His voice was the same.

"That's the beauty of the Personata Potion – and the danger," Bellaton said.  "You still look like you when you look at yourself, even in the mirror.  So if the potion wore off, you wouldn't know unless someone told you.  We're all going to have about twelve hours."

With that, he set about changing the others.  Hermione's eyes became blue, her hair blonde.  Harry couldn't see what happened to him, of course, but Ron said that he and Hermione looked like they could be brother and sister.  Professor Thornby and Professor Bellaton transformed into an old woman and an old man; Lupin and Sirius grew a bit younger.

They Flooed to a deserted storeroom in the Leaky Cauldron.  It was so crowded downstairs that no one seemed to notice them; a few steps and they were out in the streets of London.  They crowded into two taxis and headed for a restaurant that the professors seemed to know.  Harry had never been in such a place before; he found himself eating a five-course meal and trying creme brulee for the first time.  In what felt like no time at all, dinner was over and he found himself sitting in a polished concert hall with his two best friends, listening to sounds of a sort he had barely heard before.  The music swelled around them; Harry was completely absorbed in the performance between listening to the changing themes and watching the performers manipulate their instruments.  He sat and listened, swept away in the sound, until the last aching note from the violin sounded.  Professor Thornby sighed; Harry looked at her, and she gave him a wrinkled, blissful smile.  Harry thought he knew how she felt.


	10. In Diagon Alley

**A/N**: It's been a long, long time since I last updated but I have moved, started a new job, and tried to decide what to do with Harry Potter and the Guardians.  I am going to keep on writing the fifth year story instead of modifying it into a sixth year story.  I don't mean this to be an AU tale – it's just going to be me finishing up what I've started.  I'm sure there are lots of authors out there who are trying to do the same thing.  It's a bit awkward writing a fifth year story when the official version is out there because I want my writing to remain original and unaffected by it.  There are several reasons behind my choice, one of which is the fact that Sirius was killed off at the end of book five.  Sniff.  Sirius is an important part of this story, and I really can't imagine writing it without him. 

I've made a few very small changes to most of the previous chapters.  They don't affect the plot in any way – I mostly just changed some sentences that I thought were awkward, words that were used too often in close proximity, etc.  I did change the name "Doctor Bigelow" to "Healer Bigelow" because I believe that the term "healer" was used prior to Order of the Phoenix.  If it wasn't, oh well.

The next chapter is in the works.  I would dearly love to write a song for the Sorting Hat; I might be able to pull it off even though I've never been very good at writing poetry.  I probably won't be able to crank out the chapters like I used to; I just don't have that kind of time and leisure right now, but I am making steady progress.  Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to keep going.  In the meantime, here's a good long chapter for you all.  Enjoy!  

Chapter Ten: In Diagon Alley 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione woke up one day to find that the return to Hogwarts was nearly upon them.  They were sitting in the breakfast room nibbling on hot sausages when a large, tawny owl swooped through the open window.  It dropped one fat, creamy envelope each on Harry, Ron, and Hermione's laps and soared out again.

"So soon," Ron sighed.

"Finally!" Hermione exclaimed, seizing her envelope in both hands.

Harry and Ron turned to look at her.  Ron's nose was crinkled as if it had detected a particularly foul odor.  "Come _on_, Hermione," he said.  "School's not that exciting, even for -"

But Hermione had already opened her letter and turned it upside down, letting a shiny gold badge fall into her lap.  "Oh!" she exclaimed.  "Oh, I'd been hoping…"  Her face shone with pride and delight.

Harry looked at the badge with raised eyebrows.  "A prefect," he said.  "Well, that's no surprise.  Everyone figured you were a shoo-in."  With everything that had happened since the third task last year, the selection of prefects had completely slipped his mind.

"Don't you want to see if either of you got one?" Hermione cried.  She gestured impatiently at their envelopes.

Ron rolled his eyes.  "Not really," he said, "but you certainly do."  He made a show of turning his envelope over and over, shaking and sniffing it, until Hermione cried "Ron!" in exasperation.  Ron laughed, picked up a knife from the table, and neatly sliced the letter open.  "No badge for me," he said, drawing out the paper inside.  "How about you, Harry?"

Harry took the knife, wondering if he might have actually been named prefect.  He slit open the envelope, reached inside… and pulled out a letter.  That was all.

"It's not me, either," said Harry, trying to hide his disappointment.  _I've faced down Voldemort three times,_ he thought, feeling more than a little bitter.  _Does Dumbledore think I'm not good enough to be a prefect?_

"What?" said Ron, frowning.  "But that just leaves Dean, Seamus, and Neville.  I mean, out of the five of us, I was sure it would be you."

"Guess not," said Harry, trying to sound cheerful.  From the look Ron gave him, he could tell that he hadn't fooled anyone.

"I'm sure Dumbledore has his own reasons for choosing prefects," Hermione said gently.  "Not being selected isn't a reflection on anyone."

"Sure it is," said Harry dully.

"Morning," said Bellaton as he strode into the breakfast room.  "Aaah, smells wonderful!"  He caught sight of Harry's face and paused.  "Bad sausage, Harry?"

"We received out letters from Hogwarts," Hermione said.

"I see," said Bellaton.  He took a seat at the table next to Hermione and reached for the teapot.  "Congratulations, Hermione.  And you two, don't let it get you down.  All students secretly hope for that badge to show up in their letter, but very few get it.  Besides, Dumbledore chooses who he chooses for his own reasons.  Pass the sugar, would you, Ron?"

"Well, who is the other Gryffindor prefect?" said Ron eagerly as he reached for the sugar bowl.  Harry's ears pricked up in spite of himself.

Bellaton snorted.  "I'll never tell.  You'll just have to wait and find out for yourselves."  He frowned at Harry.  "Really, now, don't worry about it.  I doubt Dumbledore had an easy time choosing between you five.  You're all fine young men, from what I hear."

Harry's face flushed, his bitter feelings replaced by shame.  A little voice inside his head was speaking up: _But you do think you deserve it more than they do, don't you?  After all, who was it that faced Voldemort three times?  Think you're better than they are, Harry Potter?_  Harry quashed the voice.  He unfolded his thick parchment, seeking something else to think about.

Hermione had begun scanning the booklist as well.  "Ooooh, this sounds interesting: _A History of Magical Conflict_ by Warren Pease.  It doesn't sound like our usual history books.  And here's another one – _Flummoxing the Fiendish_ by Constance Pavison.  Ron, when is your father coming to take us to Diagon Alley?" she asked eagerly.

 Ron rolled his eyes.  "Hermione, do you know the meaning of the word 'vacation'?  We're going to have all year to get through those books!"

Hermione lifted her chin.  "Honestly, Ron, if you would spend some time actually reading your texts I'm sure you'd find them quite fascinating."

"I read enough," said Ron defensively.  "There's more to life than just books."

Harry was not at all in the mood to listen to his friends bicker.  He recognized the frosty glint in Hermione's eye and spoke up before she could retort.  "Yeah, Ron, when is your dad coming?"

It was Bellaton who answered.  "Today, in an hour or two," he said.  "You'll come back here afterwards to spend the last few days before term starts, and then he'll come back to take you to King's Cross.  No one besides your families knows you're staying here, and we'd like to keep it that way.  Please remember not to speak of it while in Diagon Alley – the walls have ears."

"What do you take us for, a couple of first-years?" Ron said.  "You sound like Mad-Eye Moody."

Bellaton laughed.  "I hope I'm not as paranoid as that.  Still, keep it in mind.  You've never even heard of me or Celeste yet."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were ready and waiting by the time Mr. Weasley appeared in the fireplace.  "Morning, everyone," he said, stepping out of it.  "Hullo, son!  Good heavens, have you grown?  Been behaving yourself?" he asked brightly.

"Daaaaad," Ron said through gritted teeth.

"All right, all right, I suppose I can leave the mothering to Molly," said Mr. Weasley.  He gave Ron's shoulder an affectionate squeeze.  "Well!  Are we all ready to go?"

Both teachers entered the breakfast room, clad in traveling cloaks.  "We are now," said Bellaton, exchanging a hearty handshake with Mr. Weasley.

"You're coming with us?" said Hermione, looking confused.  "After all that 'we've never met before' talk?"

"We're going ahead of you," said Professor Thornby.  "Diagon Alley is not a safe place for any of you anymore.  Don't worry, we're not going to be hiding in corners.  We'll be scouting around, buying things, but nearby in case you need us."

_It's starting,_ thought Harry, his mood sinking again.  _Under surveillance wherever I go._  Professor Thornby caught his eye and gave him a sympathetic smile.  It didn't make him feel any better.

"We're heading to the Burrow to meet up with everyone else," said Mr. Weasley.  "You go first, Ron."

Ron took a handful of Floo powder from the bag that Bellaton proffered and threw it into the fire.  The flames roared up, green and cool, and Ron walked across the hearth.  "The Burrow!" he said loudly, and vanished.  Hermione followed, and then it was Harry's turn.

When the world stopped spinning, Harry found himself in the large fireplace in the kitchen at the Burrow.  Fred, George, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley were all there waiting; Mrs. Weasley was fussing over Ron.

"Why, Ron, I do believe you've grown!  Oh, dear, your hair needs cutting."  She reached for his head, and Ron ducked.  "_Mum,_ I'm fifteen," he groaned.  Fred and George's snickers of "Ickle Ronniekins" were clearly audible.

"Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed when she saw Harry exiting the fireplace.  "Oh, welcome back!"  She bustled over to him and caught him up in a hug.  Over her shoulder, Harry saw Ron roll his eyes.  "You look a bit peaky.  Have they been feeding you well?  Perhaps we should have some lunch before we go."

"Careful, Mum, you squeeze him any harder and he'll pop," said Fred, grinning at Harry.

"Yeah, we'll want to keep him around, he's dead useful for lots of things.  Like beating the trousers off the Slytherins at Quidditch," said George.

"Defeating legions of dark wizards," Fred added.

"Taking abuse from Snape so the rest of us don't have to…"

"Saving damsels from giant snakes…ouch!"  Fred yelped as Ginny trod on his foot.

Mrs. Weasley released Harry and smiled at him, her eyes bright.  "I'm glad you're looking so well," she said, her voice inaudible to anyone but Harry because Fred and George were still listing his many qualities.  Harry looked around at the twins and Ginny, and then he remembered that none of them knew about the poisoning.

There was a rushing sound behind them, and Mr. Weasley stepped out of the fireplace.  "Are we all ready to go?" he said.  "Time is wasting away."

There was a chorus of "Yes, Dad"s from the Weasley children.

"Right, then.  Molly, would you go first?  I could use a minute to recover."  Mr. Weasley eyed the fireplace a bit queasily.

Mrs. Weasley obliged, and the others began to follow her one by one.  In moments Harry was emerging from a large fireplace in what looked like a storeroom.  It was full of crates and boxes, some of which were dusty and others that looked as if they had been recently emptied.  The room was dimly lit by sunlight filtering in through two windows; through them, storefronts and people were clearly visible.  When everyone had arrived, they filed out the front door and Harry saw that they were standing across the street from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, right in the middle of Diagon Alley.

"Everyone meet back here in two hours!" called Mr. Weasley as Ginny spotted one of her Gryffindor friends and dashed off, waving goodbye.

Fred and George walked quickly in the other direction, but as they passed Harry each twin whispered something in his ear.

"Funding nascent joke shops…"

"Surviving deadly poison…"

Harry jerked his head around in shock, watching the twins' receding backs.  Ron and Hermione looked curiously at him, but Mr. and Mrs. Weasley did not seem to have noticed.

"Well," said Mrs. Weasley, looking a bit uncomfortable.  "You'll be all right on your own?"

_"Mum,"_ said Ron, exasperated.

"You know what I'm talking about, Ronald," she said, going a bit red in the face but still keeping her voice low.  "You all need to be very careful."

"They'll be fine, Molly," said Mr. Weasley reassuringly.  "You three just keep your eyes open and your wits about you.  There's probably nothing to worry about here but now is the time to be cautious."

Harry decided that while he did like Mrs. Weasley very much, he definitely preferred Mr. Weasley's way of treating them all.  He, Ron, and Hermione indicated that they would be careful.  Mrs. Weasley seemed satisfied, and they parted ways.

"What did Fred and George say to you?" asked Ron as soon as his parents were out of earshot.  "You looked like you'd been goosed."

"They know I was poisoned," said Harry.

"What?  How?" exclaimed Ron.  "They're not supposed to know that."

Unlike Ron, Hermione didn't seem surprised.  "This is Fred and George we're talking about," she said matter-of-factly.  "They probably eavesdropped on your parents."

"Well, if they know, Ginny knows," said Ron sagely.

Harry shrugged.  "I don't really care.  I didn't see a reason to keep it from them in the first place.  So where are we going first?"

Hermione made a plea for Flourish and Blotts.  "It's my favorite store," she said.  "And I can't wait to have a look at our new textbooks for Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic!"

Ron made a face.  "How about we save the best for last?"

"You're not fooling anyone," Hermione chided.  "Think of it as getting it out of the way, then."

"Oh, come on!  I heard there's a new Comet out this year, nothing on your Firebolt of course, Harry, but definitely worth a look."  Ron looked at Harry expectantly.  Harry, however, refused to get in the middle of what he knew all too well was another budding argument between his friends, and in the end Hermione won out.

The bookshop was crowded with students, parents, and harried-looking employees carrying stacks of books balanced precariously in their arms.  The three of them began making their way through the crowd toward the back of the shop.  Harry bumped into a witch who had her back turned to them.  "Sorry," he said as the witch turned to look at him; her eyes grew as wide as saucers and she backed up, pulling her robes with her.  Other people had noticed them now; a low murmur began to follow them through the shop.  Patrons turned to stare and mothers in their path drew their children protectively closer to their bodies.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione finally reached the back of the shop.  They hurried into a row of bookshelves to screen themselves from the staring eyes of the other shoppers.  Harry's stomach had sunk about as far as it could go.

"What was that about?" wondered Ron.  "You'd think that catching a sight of Harry Potter in public wouldn't be quite so novel anymore."

Hermione was shaking her head.  "I don't think that's it, but whatever's going on, it can't be good."

"Did you see that witch?  She pulled back as if I had something catching," said Harry glumly.

Suddenly, a soft voice interrupted them.  "Harry?  Ron?"  Neville Longbottom's round face peeked around the corner of the nearest bookshelf.

"Neville!" said Harry with unfeigned happiness.  

Neville ducked around the corner.  "Hi," he said.  "I saw that, Harry.  Wow, I never realized how many people were influenced by the _Daily Prophet_."

Hermione's brow furrowed.  "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Haven't you seen today's edition?" said Neville, looking confused.  "I thought you had a subscription."

"I did," said Hermione, "but I forgot to renew it this summer."

"I'd pick one up if I were you," said Neville.  "There were murders in Sussex last night.  I can't remember who it was, but it's the Killing Curse what did them in, and this morning the Minister of Magic issued statements about…"  He gulped.  "About You-Know-Who."

"About how he doesn't exist, so it couldn't have been him, I'll bet," said Ron darkly.

"Something like that.  Anyway… everyone's talking."

Harry understood.  "Everyone knows what happened at the end of last term."

"They just don't know whether to believe you or not," said Neville astutely.

"More like they don't know whether to believe Dumbledore," said Hermione.

"I told the truth.  Why won't they listen?" said Harry angrily.  "This is just the beginning.  Voldemort is going to keep on killing, and the Ministry is just going to turn a blind eye!"

The others all flinched.  "Shhh!" hissed Ron.  "We don't need any more attention!"

"Well, I believe you, Harry," said Neville.

Harry looked at Neville, completely taken by surprise by this statement.  His heart lifted a little.  "Well… thanks," he said.

"Anyone who knows you would be stupid not to," said Neville.  He turned to look around the corner of the bookshelf, and a flash of gold showed from within a fold of his cloak.

"Wait a minute…" Harry reached forward and pulled back the fabric.  The other Gryffindor prefect badge was pinned to the underside of Neville's cloak.

Ron's mouth fell open.  Hermione gasped with delight and clapped her hands.  "Oh, Neville!  Congratulations!"

Neville turned scarlet.  "I… I didn't really want anyone else to see.  No one's going to believe it's me," he stammered.

"Good for you, mate," said Ron, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, well done," said Harry.  He was surprised to find that he meant every word.

Neville was clearly trying not to smile.  "I never expected this," he said.  "No one did.  Gran was so happy, she smiled all day."  He looked tenderly at the golden badge before tucking it back under his cloak.  "You're the other Gryffindor prefect, aren't you?" he asked Hermione.

"Well, yes," she answered, her cheeks going pink.

"Saw that coming a mile away, did you?" said Ron.

They were interrupted by the sound of a rather severe voice calling Neville's name.  "That's my gran," said Neville, going a bit pale.  "I'd better go.  Sorry," he said.

"Go on, we'll see you on the train," said Harry.

They gave Neville a few minutes to slip away, then stepped back out into the crowd.  They found their schoolbooks as quickly as possible and waited in line to pay.  Hermione picked up a copy of the_ Daily Prophet_ from a stack by the counter, and they left Flourish and Blotts followed by the eyes of half the people in the shop.

Harry drew a breath of relief as soon as they were out.  It wasn't quite so bad on the street; a few witches and wizards shot curious glances his way as they passed, but most people were too absorbed in their shopping to notice him.  Harry sincerely hoped that every store wouldn't be like Flourish and Blotts.

They decided to finish their shopping before diving into the paper.  "What's done is done.  The story's not going anywhere," said Hermione.  They bought replacement supplies for Potions, went to Eyelops Owl Emporium for owl treats, and bought new quills, inkbottles, and parchment.  They stopped by Quality Quidditch Supplies to look at the new Comet that was on display in the window, but Harry didn't stay because before long, more students were looking at him than at the broomstick.  Their last stop was Madam Malkins' Robes for All Occasions where they were fitted for new school robes; all three of them had grown considerably in the past year, especially Ron, who explained that even his mother had seen the need for him to have new clothes at last.

It was a relief to return to Florean Fortescue's.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione each bought a large dish of ice cream from Mr. Fortescue himself, a wizard with a jolly face who treated them more pleasantly than anyone else had that day.  Juggling their parcels with their frosty dishes, they retreated to a table in the corner of the parlor where Hermione finally brought out the _Daily Prophet_.

The cover bore the headline SLAYING IN SUSSEX and two photographs, one of a smiling witch and wizard and the other of Cornelius Fudge.  They all leaned in over the paper, the better to look at the photographs and the article.

_Frederick and Helen McDougal were found dead this morning at their home in Sussex.  Healers from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries arrived on the scene only to say that there was nothing to be done for the victims, neither of which had a mark on them.  Anthony Trimble, a close friend of the McDougals, made the gruesome discovery.  Mr. Trimble was overcome by grief and was unavailable for comment._

_Healer Dixon, who specializes in the treatment of wounds inflicted by spells, was at the scene and attempted to shed some light on the nature of the McDougals' attacker.  "It appears that the Killing Curse was the cause of death," said Healer Dixon.  "However, we are looking at all possibilities before we produce a final diagnosis.  Whatever the cause, we certainly have a case of foul play."_

_Aurors who inspected the house found no signs of forced entry.  "It is most likely that the McDougals opened the door to a visitor who proceeded to enter their home and murder them," said Alexander Purcell, a senior Auror with the Ministry of Magic._

_Minister Cornelius Fudge was quick to issue a statement after the discovery of the deaths.  "I know that many people are going to be quick to associate the Killing Curse with You-Know-Who, especially given the recent unsubstantiated comments of well-known but misguided persons," said Minister Fudge, in an exclusive interview with the Daily Prophet.  "However, I can personally assure the magical community that the events of fifteen years ago are not repeating themselves.  I would not have witches and wizards living in fear when there is simply no need to do so.  Our Aurors will, of course, be doing everything possible to apprehend the perpetrator of this horrible crime."_

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stopped reading and looked at each other in amazement.  "Well, when it came to making comments about me, Fudge was rather nicer than I expected," said Harry.

"It is true that we can't just jump to the conclusion that You-Know-Who is behind it," said Hermione, who had lowered her voice to a whisper.  "You don't have to be a Death Eater to use the Killing Curse."

"But Fudge doesn't want anyone to even _think_ about You-Know-Who," said Ron, just as quietly.

Hermione sighed.  "It's a more objective article than I've seen in the _Daily Prophet_ for some time," she said.  "But it doesn't really tell us anything other than the fact that a witch and wizard died mysteriously."

"It does do one more thing," said Harry darkly.  "It gets people staring at me again."

Ron suddenly gave a little jerk, depositing a large dollop of boysenberry chip on the open paper.  He was staring toward the ice cream counter with a look of revulsion on his face.  Harry and Hermione looked up and immediately saw the cause: Draco Malfoy and his father were standing at the front of the shop, being helped by Mr. Fortescue, who seemed to have lost his usual ebullient expression.

They looked away quickly and turned back to the paper, as no one was in the mood for a confrontation.  They heard Mr. Malfoy thank Mr. Fortescue coldly, and a moment later Mr. Weasley's cheerful voice called out from the doorway of the shop.  "Ah, there you are –"  He stopped in mid-sentence, staring at Lucius Malfoy with utter dislike, who looked scarcely less pleased than Mr. Weasley.  Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ginny were standing just inside the door, all momentarily frozen.  Draco had spotted Harry and his friends and was sneering at them.  The shop had gone very quiet; Mr. Fortescue began wringing his hands nervously.

Mr. Malfoy shifted his gaze to Harry, taking in the paper spread out on the table before him.  Harry stared back at him, unaware that he had thrust his hand into his pocket and was gripping his wand as tightly as he could.  Mr. Malfoy narrowed his eyes and looked away.  He gripped his son's shoulder and began steering him out of the shop.  "Come, Draco.  We don't want to patronize an establishment frequented by this rabble."

Mr. Weasley said nothing, merely raising one eyebrow and stepping out of their way.  Mr. Malfoy snarled silently at him, but Mr. Weasley was unreactive as they passed.

The moment the Malfoys were gone, the shop's patrons began to breathe again.  Mr. Fortescue perked up instantly when Mr. Weasley walked up to the counter and ordered five large ice creams.

"Oh, I see you've heard the news," said Mr. Weasley as he came up with the rest of his family.  "Terrible waste of good people."

"Did you know them, Dad?" asked George, dipping into his chocolate and peanut butter parfait.

"Not well," said Mr. Weasley.  "They both worked at the Ministry.  On countercurses, I believe."

All the underage witches and wizards at the table began looking at each other furtively.  Harry could tell that they were all thinking what he was thinking: what countercurse were they working on?  One for Avada Kedavra, perhaps?  It certainly sounded like the kind of work Voldemort would want to put a stop to…

Mrs. Weasley eyed them all sharply.  "Don't you go worrying about the McDougals, now," she said.  "It's none of your concern."

"You would accuse _us_ of meddling?" said Fred in an offended tone.

"I know what you're all thinking," said Mrs. Weasley dangerously.  "You're my children, I know you.  This is for adult witches and wizards to deal with, so you just leave it alone!"

Fred and George brightened.  "Well, we'll be adults in less than a month, so –"

"You're still in school," interrupted Mrs. Weasley.  Ron was shaking his head at the twins; Harry knew as well as Ron did that that tack would never have worked.  "These are uncertain times," she continued, her face softening.  "It's not as if no one's on the lookout, so leave it be and concentrate on your classes.  I expect you both to get more N.E.W.T.s than you got O.W.L.s –"

"Who's on the lookout?" Ginny interrupted eagerly.

"That's enough," said Mr. Weasley quietly.  The younger Weasleys' faces fell.  "This is not the time or the place to be discussing this," he continued.  "And even if we were at home, we wouldn't be discussing it there.  Your mother's right, you've got to concentrate on school this year, you five most of all," he said, looking at everyone except Ginny.  "O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s take a lot of preparation.  Your teachers will force your noses to the grindstone if they're not there already."

Hermione's eyes sparkled eagerly, but Harry and Ron looked at each other dejectedly.  The twins seemed to be mirroring their mood from across the table.  Like the selection of the prefects, Harry had completely forgotten that this was O.W.L. year.  Harry dug back into his melting dish of ice cream, but it didn't taste quite as sweet as it had before.


	11. A Parting Gift

**A/N:** Thanks, Pepperjack, for your very kind review!  It's great to know that someone liked the story and was glad to see it return.  Unfortunately, I doubt that many people knew about it because the update never showed up on the main Harry Potter page… I have a lot of problems with that.  I hope that this update makes it.

Every time I feel that my story has been influenced by Order of the Phoenix I'm going to make mention of it, and this is one of those times.  In this chapter Harry discusses his career aspirations with Sirius.  I've thought for a long time that Harry would end up an Auror, as would Ron, but not Hermione (assuming that Harry survives, of course).  It seems by far the most appealing career for Harry and Ron who by now have developed a certain taste for danger and adventure.  Hermione, on the other hand, is a scholar, and enjoys accumulating knowledge.  But I digress.  Harry's choice of a career is my own notion that happens to agree with J.K. Rowling.  Harry's discussion with Sirius about the importance of the standardized wizarding tests in achieving his goal is straight from Order of the Phoenix.  I have included it because it fits in well with the story plan and serves a definite purpose.

That being said, here is yet another chapter (in less than a week!  _Excellent._)

Chapter 11: A Parting Gift

Harry, Ron, and Hermione tried to squeeze as much fun as possible out of their last few days of freedom, though their ideas of what constituted "fun" varied.  Harry and Ron preferred Quidditch when they weren't practicing their dueling skills.  Hermione forsook her new schoolbooks in favor of one that she would have to leave behind in Alverbrooke's library - _Magical Music _by Carmen Churchill.  Being all about Singers and their talents, she could not risk bringing it to Hogwarts where the seemingly odd choice of subject would raise questions.

Sirius had grown moody and dejected.  Harry knew how he felt; it had been wonderful to spend a whole month's vacation with his godfather, and he was sorry for their impending separation.  Sirius took every opportunity to interact with Harry.  He participated in every Quidditch game and went on every walk through the woods.  He was more than competent at dueling, so the professors let him take over the lessons and merely watched from the sidelines.

After supper on the eve of the return to Hogwarts, Sirius asked Harry if they could have a chat by themselves.  Harry acquiesced, and he soon found himself sitting comfortably on the floor of the observatory, watching the sun sink slowly behind the trees at the edge of the estate.

Sirius seemed to be in a pensive mood, which was fine with Harry as anything was better than seeing his godfather so depressed all the time.

"Well, you're fifteen now, Harry," said Sirius.  "Getting close to coming of age.  How does it feel?"

"So far, a lot like being fourteen," said Harry truthfully.

Sirius smiled.  "A fair answer."  His expression became thoughtful.  "You're growing up so fast.  I remember the day you were born."  Harry could tell that Sirius wasn't seeing the treeline he was staring at; he was looking back through time and memory.  "When Lily knew you were coming they called the Healers, and Remus and I came too.  We spent hours trying to get James to stop pacing.  If it had taken you any longer to come out, he might have worn a hole through the floor."  He smiled fondly into the gathering twilight.  "Lily was perfectly calm the whole time, and your father was a nervous wreck.  But then you finally came and you had this little tuft of black hair right in the middle of your head and he was so proud.  You were all he ever talked about for two months afterwards… the apple of his eye.  Of all of our eyes, really…  You had a mother, father, and two uncles that couldn't have loved you more.  Three uncles, I suppose… I think that at first Peter really did care for you as the rest of us did, the treacherous scumbag.  But he made his choice and left all our friendships behind," he finished in a cold voice.

Harry didn't know what to say, so he remained silent and let his godfather ruminate.

"You can't know how sorry I am that I didn't get to bring you up myself," said Sirius.

Harry looked at his godfather's stony face.  "Actually, I think I do," he said.  "I'm stuck with the Dursleys and it's horrid.  I used to dream that some long-lost relative would come and take me away.  But even the Dursleys can't be as terrible as Azkaban."

Sirius grimaced.  "Few things are," he said.  "Still… I'd turn myself in right now if it would bring your parents back.  James was a true friend to me and a good father to you."  He paused for a moment, sniffed loudly, and cleared his throat.  "Enough about the past," he said gruffly.  "Anything you want to talk about before you head on back to Hogwarts?  Need any manly advice?"

"Er," said Harry.

"You're turned out to be rather good-looking for a Potter, I think."  Sirius grinned mischievously.  "How are things on the romance front?"

"Um…"

Sirius' grin broadened.  "Aha!  Who is she?"  Harry didn't answer but was unable to stop a fiery blush from suffusing his cheeks.  Sirius looked very hard at him and said, "It's not Hermione, is it?"

Harry laughed.  "No!"  Sirius continued to look expectantly at him.  "Well, there is someone, sort of, but not really…"

"Is there or isn't there?" chuckled Sirius.

Harry decided that he might as well give it up.  Sirius was on to him and wouldn't let up until he knew.  "Cho Chang.  She's a year ahead of me and plays Seeker on the Ravenclaw team," Harry said.  "I even asked her to the Yule Ball last year, but I waited too long and Cedric got to her first…" he trailed off.  Thinking of Cedric was painful.

The grin slid off Sirius' face.  "I see."

"She really liked him," said Harry.  "It was pretty obvious.  And she'll never want anything to do with me, if I hadn't suggested we take the Triwizard Cup together, Cedric would still be alive."

"Hold on there," said Sirius.  "Cedric got there first, but he thought you should take the cup because you helped him, right?"

"Right."

"But you wanted Cedric to take it because he got to it first fair and square."

"Yeah, but I'm the one who suggested…"

"Harry, Cedric sounds like the kind of straight-up person who would have done the same thing, only you said it first," said Sirius.  "You didn't know the cup was a Portkey, it was the perfect solution."

"Moody – I mean Crouch – said that he manipulated us – me and Cedric – so that I would get to the cup first.  He said that 'decent people are easy to manipulate'," Harry finished bitterly.

"Listen to me, Harry," Sirius said firmly.  "Cedric is not dead because you are a good person.  He's dead because You-Know-Who is evil and decided to kill him on a whim.  It's not just your past that sets you apart from other people – it's your decency.  Don't you ever let go of it!  It may be the greatest weapon you have against the Death Eaters.  They don't understand kindness, self-sacrifice, or love.  Not in the least."

"I guess.  But I'm not going to be fooled by them again," said Harry fiercely.

"Of course not," said Sirius.  "And you're not alone in making sure."  Harry looked questioningly at his godfather.  "You think that it's just this small circle of people fighting against You-Know-Who?  Dumbledore has many devoted friends and allies.  There are more people involved in this business than you know, especially since You-Know-Who has returned."

Harry was intrigued.  "Who do you mean?  What are they doing?  Do you know where he's hiding?"

"Sorry, but I'm not supposed to tell," said Sirius.  "I've already said as much as I'm allowed to.  Dumbledore wants you to know that action is being taken, but it's not for you to get involved.  Your job is to get Outstandings in all of your O.W.L.s this year."

Harry groaned, and Sirius laughed.  "I felt the same way my fifth year.  But it is important to do well, no matter how much of a pain it seems like now.  Your O.W.L.s affect your future career."

Harry frowned.  "No one's ever mentioned that before."

"Well, now you know.  What are you thinking about doing after graduation?"

"I dunno… it would be pretty cool to be an Auror."

"Harry Potter, Auror," said Sirius, spreading his hands out in front of him as if the words were on a marquee.  "It's a good choice, and a natural one for you at that.  You've been doing Auror work for years, after a fashion.  But if you want it to become a reality you have to do very, very well this year.  The Ministry won't accept anyone with slipshod O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s, as I found out to my pain.  Dumbledore warned me, but I skived off anyway, and in the end my grades weren't good enough."

"You wanted to be an Auror?" said Harry, interested.  "I didn't know that."

"Well, I settled for curse-breaking," said Sirius.  "I was happy doing it, too, but it was only a few years before everything fell apart."  He stared off into the distance again for a moment before shaking his head and turning back to Harry.  "You look more like your father every day.  I'll bet it drives Snape mad."

Harry shrugged.  "He's always hated me."

"And me," said Sirius.  "He's a right smarmy git, but Potions is one of the subjects you need to excel at this year if you want to be an Auror.  So don't antagonize him, all right?"

"What?" exclaimed Harry.  "I never do anything in his class, he always singles me out –"

"I know, I believe you," said Sirius.  "Just keep your head down.  Don't give him any excuses to give you bad marks."

"I don't think that's possible…"  Harry trailed off, remembering his first night at Alverbrooke when Snape had had to help him walk across the room.  He'd been different then.  True, his face had been as unreadable to Harry as Ancient Runes, but he hadn't been nearly as hostile as Harry had expected.  And there was Sirius, looking proud and hopeful, wanting Harry to succeed where he had failed years before.

He didn't want let his godfather down.  "I'll try," said Harry, and Sirius smiled broadly.

"You'll be an Auror in no time," he said confidently.  Harry sighed; just thinking of the year ahead made him feel as tired as if he were already bending over his books.

There was a knock on the door across the room.  "Come in," called Sirius, and a crack of light suddenly appeared against the darkened forest.  It widened to admit Lupin, who closed the door behind him and walked toward Harry and Sirius with seemingly nothing beneath his feet.

"Have you got it, Padfoot?" asked Lupin as he sat down, cross-legged, on the floor beside them.

"Of course I have, Moony."  Sirius thrust his hand into a pocket of his robes and dug out a small box wrapped in golden paper with a scarlet ribbon.  "Here – happy birthday, Harry."

"Thanks!" Harry said in surprise, taking the box.

"You may have slept through it, but you still need a present," said Lupin.

Harry removed the ribbon and paper to reveal a dark wooden box.

"Wait," said Sirius.  "It's too dark, you won't be able to see it."  He pulled out his wand.  "_Lumos._  All right, go ahead."

Harry opened the lid.  Inside on black velvet lining lay a small green jewel the size and shape of a teardrop.  A short silver chain connected the setting to a pin.

"You got me an earring?" said Harry in confusion.  "Oh, you shouldn't have, really."

Everyone laughed.

"I don't know, you might look good with an earring," chuckled Sirius.

"You pin it to your clothing, not your ear," said Lupin.  "It's an emerald.  They protect against poison."

"They're an essential part of the antidote-making process," said Sirius.  "Snape would have needed one for the potion he made for you."

"Actually, we meant it for a talisman, not a potion-making ingredient, though you could use it for that if you wanted to," said Lupin.

"Malfoy would have a field day if he saw me wearing jewelry," said Harry.  "Especially if it's in Slytherin colors."

"It doesn't have to be visible," said Sirius.  "As long as it's on your person, it'll protect you."

"We know that it's not likely that You-Know-Who will try to poison you again," said Lupin.  "But after last month… well, we just wanted to do something to help."

Harry picked up the pin and let the stone dangle from the chain.  The light from Sirius' wand caused green fire to flash inside.  Emeralds were very expensive – everyone knew that.  Harry wondered how Sirius and Lupin had been able to afford it.  He tried to find a polite way of finding out.  "Where did it come from?" he asked.

"There's a neat little bit of history behind that stone," said Sirius.  "It belonged to Moony's mother."

"My grandmother was poisoned during the war with Grindelwald," Lupin explained.  "She barely survived and was terrified of being poisoned again until the day she died.  My grandfather bought her this stone to ease her mind, only then it hung on a chain like a pendant.  It was passed down to my mother, and subsequently to me."

"But if this is a family heirloom, don't you want to keep it?" asked Harry.

"If I wanted to wear it I'd have to melt the setting off and remount it in gold," said Lupin.  "Werewolves don't take well to silver.  I remember one time not long after I was bitten – I ate some chicken soup with a silver spoon."  He shuddered.  "I was deathly ill for days afterwards.  Besides, you're family just as much as children of my own would be, and I doubt I'll ever have any to give it to.  Your mother and father would have wanted Padfoot and me to look after you, but unfortunately, we've both turned out to be fugitives.  It's not much, but it's all we can do for you while you're away at school."

Harry looked at the jewel swinging back and forth on its short chain and then at the two adults.  They were watching him expectantly.  _You're family just as much as children of my own…_  Harry didn't need Sirius to tell him that he shared Lupin's sentiment.  He turned over the collar of his T-shirt and pinned the talisman to the other side.  It felt cool against his skin.

"Can you see it?" he asked them.

"Just a tiny flash of silver," said Lupin.

"When you get back to Hogwarts you'll have your school robes," said Sirius.  "They should hide even the smallest clues pretty well."

"It's a great present," Harry said.  "Thank you."

"You're welcome," said Lupin, and Harry could see that they were both very pleased that he had put it on.

**********

The next day dawned bright and sunny.  When Harry stumbled down to breakfast he found that Hermione was already there and had in fact been awake for some time.  He wasn't surprised to see an open book next to her broiled grapefruit.

"Good morning, Harry!" she chirped, looking up from her page.

"Mmm," Harry responded groggily.

Hermione spooned out a section of grapefruit.  "Professor Bellaton's already gone," she said.  "The house-elves say he left last night."

Harry sat down and began to butter a piece of toast.  "Let me guess: Professor Thornby is going to be taking the train from King's Cross to Hogwarts."

"Yes," said Hermione.

Harry grimaced at his toast.

"It could be a lot worse," said Hermione, sounding more than a little bit bossy.  "She's just doing her job, you know.  At least she's not going to be holding your hand the whole way."

"Well, I like her and all, but I don't like being watched all the time," said Harry crossly.

"You agreed to it," said Hermione.

Harry opened his mouth but was forestalled by the appearance of a very rumpled-looking Ron at the table.  He was a sharp contrast to Hermione who appeared ready to leave at that very moment.

"Morning," yawned Ron.  He caught sight of Harry's face.  "What's wrong with you, mate?"

"Professor Thornby is going to Hogwarts on the train," said Hermione.

"So?" said Ron, helping himself to a fried egg.  "She went to Diagon Alley while we were there and we never saw her.  She'll steer clear of us on the train, no one's supposed to know that she's connected to you at all."

Harry felt a bit foolish.  "I guess so," he said.

"Can't blame you, though," said Ron around a mouthful of toast.  "I mean, she's brilliant and all, but I wouldn't want her in my head."

Harry tilted his head to one side as if listening for something.  "You know, I don't really notice it that much anymore."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?" said Hermione.  "You wouldn't want to be distracted during class all year, we have a lot to do to get ready for O.W.L.s."

"No, we wouldn't want to think about anything other than exams this year," snickered Ron.

Harry was saved from having to listen to yet another argument by Professor Thornby.  "There you are!" she exclaimed as she entered the breakfast room.  "Harry, Ron, you'd better get moving.  Arthur's going to be here soon."

Harry and Ron wolfed down the rest of their eggs and toast while Hermione serenely worked on her grapefruit one section at a time.  They dashed back to their rooms to wash and dress.  Harry had done most of his packing the night before, but Ron had apparently barely begun.  Harry could hear him banging around next door while he carefully folded up his own school robes.

Finally Harry had packed nearly everything.  He looked around his green room for odds and ends and spotted the mahogany box that held his talisman on the bedside table.  He was in the act of pinning the stone to the inside of his shirt when Sirius appeared in the doorway.

Sirius smiled when he saw what Harry was doing, but made no direct mention of the talisman.  "Almost ready, then?" he said in a voice that was just a bit too light and carefree to be convincing.

"Yeah, nearly," said Harry.

There was a crash next door followed by a muffled curse.

"Does he always leave things to the last minute?" said Sirius, craning his neck to look into Ron's room.

"Pretty much," Harry answered.

Sirius looked down at his hands.  "Listen, Harry, I want you to be careful this year at school, all right?  I wish I could go myself but I'm going to have to rely on Celeste to watch out for you."

Harry's hand tightened on the box.  "I'm not a baby, Sirius, I can take care of myself."

"I know that, but –"

"You took all kinds of risks while you were at school, running around with a werewolf and your Animagus friends after dark –"

"We didn't have a Dark Lord hard on our heels!" said Sirius.

"Look," said Harry, now thoroughly exasperated, "I'm not going to do anything stupid.  I know Voldemort's out to kill me.  I know everyone's concerned but you can't keep me under lock and key!"  There was a bite to his words that he had not meant to put in them.

Sirius' jaw tightened.  "I'm sorry if my _concern_ bothers you, but you're not the one watching your godson heading off to face God knows what, not being able to do anything because you have to hide your face from the world."  He crossed his arms and looked away from Harry.

Harry sighed and sat down on his bed.  "Look, I didn't mean it like that –"

Sirius held up a hand.  "Until you stand in my shoes, there is no way you can understand how it feels to let you go so soon after…"  His voice trembled slightly and he trailed off.  "I'll stop getting on your case."

Harry couldn't help feeling a little bit guilty; he knew that Sirius hadn't intended to annoy him.  "I'll be careful," he said.  "It's just that I already got the point, you know?"  He ventured a hopeful smile, and was relieved when Sirius smiled back.

"You're fifteen now, I have to remember that," said Sirius.  They heard another not-so-muffled oath from next door.  "Come on, I'll help you carry your stuff downstairs."

By the time Ron finished packing, Mr. Weasley was already waiting downstairs.  "Sorry," puffed Ron as he came hurrying up, dragging his trunk behind him as fast as he could.

"He's here, we'd better get going," Mr. Weasley said brusquely, looking at his watch.

There was little time to say goodbye, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione all hugged Sirius and Lupin before stepping into the fireplace with their trunks.  Sirius' eyes were bright as he gave Harry a quick embrace, but all he said was "See you at Christmas."

The Burrow was in utter chaos when they arrived.  Mrs. Weasley could be heard shouting shrilly from a floor somewhere above; other voices were shouting back and heavy thuds shook dust from the rafters onto their heads.  The breakfast dishes had apparently been washing themselves in the sink but were now completely out of control.  Hermione shrieked and ducked as a heavy frying pan flew straight at her head.

"_Finite!_" commanded Mr. Weasley as the forks began to twitch and clack ominously.  The frying pan fell to the floor with a loud clang.  "You three get your trunks in the car out front," said Mr. Weasley distractedly while a large bundle of socks soared into the room and up the stairs, grazing his ear on the way.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione left the kitchen as quickly as they could.  Just like Mr. Weasley had said, there was one automobile sitting in front of the house.  "Another Ministry car," said Ron.  "I wonder how he got one, I had the idea he was rather unpopular with upper management right now."

They stuffed their trunks into the boot, which had been magically expanded.  "It looks like we're not going to be the ones to make us miss the train," said Hermione.  "Fred, George, and Ginny are even later than we were."

"_I_ wasn't late," said Ginny.  She was staggering out of the house with her luggage.  Harry and Ron went to help her.  "Fred and George put a Disgorging Charm on my trunk.  It spewed all my clothes around the room when I tried to close the lid."

"Looks like you beat them outside anyway," said Ron.

Ginny laughed.  "Mum went crackers.  She's been in their way too much for them to get ready, still going on about their N.E.W.T.s and all…"

She brushed a few long strands of crimson hair out of her face.  Harry only glanced at her at first but then looked back again.  Ginny had changed over the summer.  She seemed taller and more evenly proportioned, no longer gangly.  Her brown eyes caught Harry watching her; she quickly blushed and looked away.  "Um.  Where was I?  Oh yes, so if Mum doesn't ease up on them I don't think we'll ever get to King's Cross on time."

Fred and George strode out of the house, each dragging his trunk in one hand and holding his broomstick in the other.  Both looked distinctly disgruntled.  They were heaving their trunks into the car when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley appeared.

"Hurry now, boys, hurry," said Mr. Weasley.  "Goodness, look at the time, why do we have to cut it so close every year…"

They all clambered into the car, which stretched to include everybody, and Mr. Weasley put his foot down hard on the gas.

Mr. Weasley raced down the roads fast enough to make Harry and Hermione worry about both the police and their own safety.  Luck was on their side, however, and they arrived at King's Cross safe and sound.

"Ten minutes to spare!" said Mr. Weasley, who was flushed with excitement.  "That's the best we've done since Charlie was at school…"

"Come on then, let's go," said Mrs. Weasley, who didn't look like she'd enjoyed the breakneck drive quite as much as her husband.

They loaded their things onto trolleys as fast as they could and were halfway to the station when Ron realized he'd forgotten Pigwidgeon in the car and ran back to retrieve him.  Pig twittered madly the whole way into the station, waking up Hedwig in the process, who eyed the smaller owl disdainfully from her own cage.  "Shut up, Pig!" said Ron as Muggles turned to see what all the racket was.

They reached the barrier and began to dash through one at a time.  Harry followed Fred and George, getting himself and his trolley out of the way as fast as he could.  There before him was the Hogwarts Express, apple-red and shiny, white puffs of smoke coming from its stack.  Students and their parents were swarming around the cars, loading their trunks, and saying their farewells.

Harry didn't have much time to stand and admire.  The large clock on the wall gave three minutes until the train left the station.  "Hurry now, it'll be leaving any moment," said Mr. Weasley as he ran through the barrier, the last of the group to do so.  "Come on, let's get you on board…"

There was a flurry of goodbye hugs.  Mrs. Weasley was brimming with last minute advice.  "Oh, Fred, George, _do_ behave yourselves this year, please –"

"Mum, it's our last chance to make some real mischief –"

"Ginny, my beautiful girl, have a good term… Ron, study hard now, it's a big year for you, oh, there's a smudge on your cheek –"

"Mum, don't, people are watching!"

"- and Harry, Hermione, good luck," she said, rather breathless by now.  She gave them each a hug, and whispered in Harry's ear as she did so: "Take care of yourself, dear."

Harry shook hands with Mr. Weasley and scrambled into a passenger car with his luggage.  The train gave two long, piercing whistles and began to roll forward.  Students were leaning out of every compartment window, waving to the multitudes of parents who were waving back from the platform.

The train picked up speed.  Harry, Hermione, Ron, and his siblings hurried down the hall into the first empty compartment.  The Weasleys threw open the window and all tried to squeeze their heads and shoulders out.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were waving farewell.  "Goodbye, Ginny, goodbye, boys!" called Mr. Weasley.

"Hermione, you're a prefect, keep Fred and George in line!" said Mrs. Weasley.

"Goodbye, Mum, we'll send you a toilet seat express!" Fred shouted back.

The train pulled out of the station and the platform disappeared from view.


	12. The Unexpected Speech

**A/N:** Another chapter in just a few days!  I amaze myself.  I have just one thing to say: if you read this story and you enjoyed it, please let me know.  It's very discouraging when no one ever reviews it.  If I didn't want to share my ideas, I'd just keep them in my head; there would be no need to write them down and post them on a website.  I know everyone says this, but as a reader _and _an author I can say that I understand why.  Your comments are my bread and butter – please write a review.  And if you don't want to write one for mine, write one for someone else.  It will truly make their day.   

Chapter 12: The Unexpected Speech

The Hogwarts Express was not five minutes gone from King's Cross when Hermione dug her school robes and prefect badge out of her trunk.

"I hope you're not taking Mum's words to heart, Hermione," said George, eyeing the shiny gold badge suspiciously.

"I suppose that would depend on what you do," she said crisply.  "I'll let your behavior be my guide."

"I wonder who the other prefects are," said Ron absently, fiddling with the lock on Pigwidgeon's cage.  "Pig, will you _shut it?_"  He opened the door and the little owl zoomed out, hooting happily as it circled above their heads.  "Barking mad," muttered Ron.

"One galleon says Malfoy's one of the lot," said Fred.

No one would take his wager.  "Malfoy's such a prat," Ron said irritably.

"Yes, but then most of the Slytherins are, and Dumbledore has to pick someone, doesn't he?" said Ginny.

"I hear his marks can be quite good when he wants them to be," said Hermione.  "If he actually applied himself instead of just skimming by most of the time…  He's clever.  He could be dangerous."

"To you as top of the class, you mean?" snickered Fred.

"No," snapped Hermione.  "I mean that he could be a powerful wizard someday."

Ron snorted in disbelief.  Harry didn't say anything, but he was inclined to agree with Hermione.  When Ginny spoke up Harry felt as if she were reading his mind.  "Hermione's right," she said.  "Malfoy's smart, but he's a pampered little prince who's never had to exert himself."

"Except at Quidditch!" said George triumphantly.  "Malfoy's oh-for-four against Gryffindor, and this year will be no different, the Slytherins are all still prats."

"We've lost Wood, though," said Harry, "and he was the best Keeper on any of the teams.  He won't be easy to replace."

Fred and George frowned.  "We'll have to elect a new captain and have tryouts ASAP," said Fred.  "I've heard Seamus Finnigan say he knows how to play Keeper."

"There's that third year, Buckley, he's got the build –" 

"Or that one in Ginny's class, Jane Clay -"

"How about your brother?" interrupted Ron.

The twins' heads whipped around to look at him.  "Ickle Ronniekins is going to try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team?" exclaimed Fred.

"I've been practicing," Ron said defensively.

"No, no, it's grand!" Fred continued.  "Three Weasleys on the same team, we'd be unbeatable."

"Yeah, because the other team will be blinded by all the red hair," said George, and everyone laughed.

They spent the afternoon playing Exploding Snap and Wizard's Chess.  After midday the snack witch came by with her trolley and they bought some of everything, including a large pile of Chocolate Frogs.  George pulled a pair of blue-tinted glasses out of his robes, put them on, and picked up a boxed frog.  He held the package up in front of his face, turning it this way and that before discarding it into Fred's lap.  He then proceeded to pick up another, examine it, and discard it.

George was peering at his third box when Hermione spoke up.  "Something wrong with your frogs, George?" she said over her book.

"Just looking for the right one, Hermione," he said lightly, and continued to inspect the boxes.  Hermione eyed the twins critically for a moment before rolling her eyes and returning to her reading.

Harry was in the middle of chess match with Ron that he was losing dramatically.  His pieces were frantically shouting advice, but Harry knew there was nothing for it.

"Come on, Harry, just make a move, you're done for whatever you do," said Ron.

"Have a Chocolate Frog, Ron," said George, turning to look at his brother through the odd spectacles.

Ron narrowed his eyes.  "What've you done to it?"

"Nothing," said Fred innocently.  Ron's expression remained unchanged.  "On my honor, it's a normal Chocolate Frog, no jinxes, no hexes, just thought you'd like one!"

"Oh, all right," said Ron.  "As a matter of fact, I would like a Chocolate Frog, thank you very much!"  He began to open the box.  "But if my hair turns blue or my nose falls off…"  Ron gasped.  "Morgana!" he exclaimed, looking at the card inside the box.  "I looked forever for her!  Too bad I haven't really collected the cards for a while…"

"You don't want it?  Well, we'll take it off your hands –" Fred began.

"No, I'm keeping it," said Ron.  "This is a personal triumph."

George snorted.  "This is _our_ triumph.  I gave you that frog because I knew what was inside."

"You – what?"

"Well, we don't really have a good name yet, but we call it Weasley Vision!" said George.  "Invented by Fred and George Weasley, Inventors and Jokemasters Extraordinaire.  Guaranteed to see through any piece of paper to the back side."

"Let me see those," said Ron.  He put on the blue glasses, picked up a Chocolate Frog, and peered intently at the package.  "Excellent!" he exclaimed.  "They do work – looks like Daeric the Dreadful is inside this one."

Harry took the frog from Ron and unwrapped it.  Sure enough, Daeric the Dreadful glared up at him from his little portrait, snarling and brandishing a rusty dagger.

The glasses were passed around the compartment.  "Very interesting," said Ginny as she tested them on a page of Hermione's book.  "But are they really useful for anything?  I can see through the page, but everything is backwards.  You can't read it."

"We're working on that," said Fred.  

"They can't see through anything other than paper, can they?" said Harry.  Hermione jumped and clutched her book to her chest like a shield.

Fred gave Hermione a disgusted look.  "Of course not!  They can look through one layer of paper at a time, and nothing else.  We're pranksters, not perverts."

Hermione flushed and opened her book again.  "I can only think of one practical use for those," she said darkly.  "Cheating in class."

"We didn't make them for that!" said George indignantly.  "We may cause trouble, but we're not cheaters, we earn our bad marks fair and square.  Even if we were going to use them to cheat, do you think we'd be stupid enough to tell a prefect how we'd do it?"

"You tell me," said Hermione dryly.

"Well, why did you make them, then?" asked Ron.

The twins shrugged.  "Because we could," said George.  "We think that there are several ways of enchanting glasses that would be useful and profitable.  This might not be one of them, it's just a first test."  He retrieved the blue spectacles from Ginny's face and pocketed them.

Harry smiled quietly to himself.  It seemed that Fred and George were still serious about starting their own joke shop, especially if they were trying to create their own novelties.

The compartment door slid open and Neville Longbottom entered.  His golden prefect's badge was gleaming on his chest.

Fred and George did a double take; Ginny blinked in surprise.  "_You're_ the other Gryffindor prefect!" exclaimed Fred.

Neville blushed scarlet.  "Hermione, I've been looking for you, the prefects are meeting at the front of the train."  He avoided looking at anyone but her.

"Oh, well done!" said George.  They stood up and began shaking Neville's hand exuberantly.  

Neville turned even redder.  "Please don't, no one thinks I deserve it, the Slytherins have been laughing at me all down the train," he said miserably.

Hermione stood up and tucked her book back into her bag.  "Never you mind, Neville, Dumbledore picked you and that should be enough for anyone."

"Oh, I'm never going to be able to face Malfoy," Neville moaned.

"Nonsense," said Hermione briskly.  "Everything's going to be fine, you'll see."

"Cheer up, mate, Gryffindor will support you," said Ron.

"Yeah, we'll have an after-feast party," said Fred, who was still shaking Neville's hand.

Hermione pried Neville's hand out of Fred's and they left together.  "Care to lose another game, Harry?" said Ron as the compartment door slid closed again.

 "Sure, I'll play one more.  Maybe this'll be the one that I don't lose," said Harry.

"Well, there's no denying that you've really improved, but I wouldn't count on it," said Ron.

Harry lost himself in the chess match for the remainder of the trip.  He focused all his attention on the board, striving to see moves four and five ahead, something that Ron was very good at himself.  Harry was pleased to see that Ron was focusing as hard on the match as he was.  They barely noticed when Fred, George, and Ginny all left the compartment, leaving them alone with the board.

"Queen to D-6," said Ron after a long and thoughtful pause, and the black queen slid across the board to smash Harry's white knight.  Harry looked at the board and groaned.  The game would be over in two or three moves; there was nothing he could do about it.

Ron apparently saw it too.  "Yes!" he exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air.  They both sank back on the cushioned seats with a sigh.  "Whew!  Nice game, Harry, you really gave me a run for the money.  Almost had me back when your knight took my castle."

Harry grinned.  If Ron approved, then he must have played well indeed.  "Thanks, but next time you're going down, I mean it."

The train's whistle blew shrilly, and Harry and Ron both felt the force on their bodies as it began to decelerate.  A few of the remaining chessmen slid off the board, and they bent to retrieve them.  They packed away the remaining sweets and Exploding Snap cards and pulled out their black school robes.  By the time the train ground to a halt, they were ready and waiting to go.

Students were streaming off the Hogwarts Express in droves, heading for the waiting black horseless carriages.  The twilight was now very deep; stars were winking in the sky above and it was difficult to see, but there was one lantern shining through the dark, held by an enormous man.

"Firs' years!" called Hagrid.  "Firs' years this way!"  Small figures swimming in their black robes were making their way over to him, staring wide-eyed at the half-giant.

"All right there, Harry?" called Hagrid, raising his lantern and waving.  Several of the first years turned to look in Harry's direction and began whispering and pointing.  Harry ignored them.

"All right, Hagrid!" Harry called back.

"Right then, firs' years, follow me..."

"Hullo, Dean!" called Ron, spotting their fellow Gryffindor as they disembarked.  Dean, who was climbing off the train with Seamus, waved back.  Harry and Ron made their way over to them, and together the four of them climbed aboard one of the waiting carriages.

"So what do you think about Neville being a prefect and all?" said Seamus as the carriage gave a sharp lurch and trundled off toward the castle.  "I was sure it was going to be you, Harry."

"Yeah, me too," said Dean.  "I hope Neville's up to it."

Harry fought the urge to smile.  It made him feel good to know that his fellow students thought he'd deserved the position, but it wouldn't do to be smug about it.  It meant more to Neville than it would have to him, however embarrassed he seemed, and Harry said as much.

Dean shrugged.  "Well, whatever the reason, Neville's it," he said.  "That git Malfoy came by our compartment looking for him.  He's a prefect too –"

"No kidding," said Ron acidly.

"-And we don't know how he heard, but he knew about Neville," finished Seamus.  "All he wanted was to make fun of him.  We threatened to curse him back to the Stone Age and he pulled that 'You can't threaten me, I'm a prefect' tripe on us."

"White as snow," chuckled Dean.  "He didn't have Crabbe and Goyle with him."

They spent the rest of the trip to the castle happily disparaging the Slytherins.  After a few minutes the carriages stopped moving, and Harry piled out onto the lawns with the others.  Hogwarts Castle loomed before them, vast and majestic, light shining from many of the windows.  _I'm home,_ thought Harry as he gazed up at Gryffindor Tower.

The flood of students trooped past the statues of winged boars, up the stone steps, and through the great oaken doors at the top.   They entered the Great Hall, ablaze with light from the white candles floating above their heads.  Golden plates and goblets lined the four long House tables, glinting in the candlelight.  The ceiling was hung with banners representing each of the four houses: the Eagle of Ravenclaw, the Lion of Gryffindor, the Badger of Hufflepuff, and the Serpent of Slytherin.

The tables were already filling with students, and Harry and his friends hurried to find places.  They sat down next to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil who were whispering excitedly together.

"Hold on there, save places for Neville and Hermione," said Ron, stopping two third years from taking the seats directly next to them.

Right on cue, Neville and Hermione came hurrying up to the table.  Neville looked thoroughly miserable.  Looking over his shoulder, Harry could see why: Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were pointing and laughing, and some of the other Slytherins were starting to join in.  A golden badge just like Hermione and Neville's was gleaming on his puffed-out chest.  Pansy Parkinson was standing beside him, sporting her own badge.

"Look, everybody, Longbottom's a _prefect_!" drawled Malfoy.  "It must be a mistake, I'll bet Dumbledore's going to stand up and announce the real prefect during the feast..."  Pansy shrieked with laughter.

All the Gryffindor fifth years turned to glare at the Slytherins – everyone except Neville, who looked down at his golden plate, his face as red as it would go.

"Oi, Gryffindors!" came a shout from the head of the table.  Fred and George were standing up.  "Let's have a cheer for the new Gryffindor prefects, Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger!"

Gryffindors all down the table raised their goblets or banged them on the tabletop.  "Huzzah!" shouted Fred and George, and everyone began to join in.  Students sitting near Neville and Hermione thumped them on the shoulders.

"Well done!" called Ernie MacMillan from the Hufflepuff table, turning so that everyone could clearly see his own badge.

Fred and George bellowed their congratulations to Ernie in turn, and before long, the new prefects from all the houses were being acknowledged and cheered – except for Draco and Pansy, who stood glaring murderously at them all.  They stalked over to their own table where the Slytherins raised a cheer of their own, but it paled in comparison to the din in the rest of the hall.

Hermione was clearly trying not to smile, but she gave up after a few seconds and beamed around at everyone.  Even Neville began to grin shyly after a while, politely saying thank you to the students who reached forward to shake his hand.

Eventually the cacophony died down to the general buzzing of conversation.  Harry turned his attention to the staff table.  Dumbledore sat in the center as always, deep in conversation with tiny Professor Flitwick on his left.  The place on his right was empty, waiting for Professor McGonagall to fill it.   Professor Bellaton was there, resplendent in scarlet and gold robes, talking with Madam Sprout.  The Herbology professor was a short witch, and Bellaton's considerable height only made her look smaller.  On the other side of the table Harry saw a green-robed Professor Thornby talking with Professor Snape who was garbed in his usual black.

The new professors had been spotted by many of the students by now.  The attention went seemingly unnoticed by Bellaton and Professor Thornby who continued to chat with their neighbors.

"Two new teachers..."

"He's the spitting image of Godric Gryffindor, I've seen his portrait..."

"Wow, who is _she_?"

When the students had finished filling the House tables, Dumbledore stood up and the Great Hall fell silent.  He sat down again and the heavy wooden doors at the end of the hall, which had closed themselves, opened wide.  Professor McGonagall, in her usual deep green, swept in followed by a crowd of frightened-looking first years.  They walked up the path between the two central House tables to the tattered Sorting Hat, which was waiting on its stool.

McGonagall and the first years stopped.  The students all leaned forward, watching intently.  The rip along its brim slowly opened, and the hat began its song.

_Now begins a brand new year_

_So welcome students, one and all;_

_I am pleased that you've come back again_

_To Hogwarts' magnificent Great Hall._

_You've been selected to attend_

_Because there's magic in your veins,_

_But more than that, I also hope_

_That you've got spirit, heart, and brains._

_Here within this old school's walls_

_There's much to learn about yourselves_

_And it goes far and beyond_

_Your basic hexes, charms, and spells._

_Now to the first years who are brand new,_

_All standing there as pale as paste,_

_It's painless what you undergo:_

_Into your House you'll soon be placed._

_I was made a thousand years ago_

_By noble Godric Gryffindor_

_To divide the student body up_

_Into the Founders' Houses four._

_Cunning Salazar Slytherin_

_Was ambitious far beyond the rest_

_And 'twas his firm opinion that_

_The students most like him were best._

_Kind-hearted Helga Hufflepuff is next,_

_She never was a one to shirk;_

_In her House is where you'll find_

_The students who don't mind hard work._

_Graceful Rowena Ravenclaw_

_Wanted those whose minds were quick._

_If that's your strongest quality, _

_Then that's the House I'll surely pick._

_Lastly Godric Gryffindor_

_Made the bravest ones his choice._

_If in his House you do belong,_

_Then to his name I'll give voice._

_But I must tell you something more,_

_And this you'd do well not to forget:_

_Though I do divide you up_

_You're all one group of students yet._

_Your house is like your family_

_But do not shut your neighbors out;_

_Your greatest strength's in unity_

_Against the darkness from without._

_Enough of this old hat's dark thoughts!_

_I'll have a look inside your mind._

_Just take a seat and put me on;_

_I'll tell you what I find!_

The Great Hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song.  "That was a little bit different, wasn't it?" Hermione said to Harry in a low voice.

"What do you mean?" said Harry.

"_Against the darkness from without_?" she said.

They fell silent as Professor McGonagall began to read the first years' names from a roll of parchment.  "Avery, Janet!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked at one another in complete shock.  _Avery like the Death Eater, Avery? _wondered Harry.

Professor McGonagall placed the hat on Janet's head.  Harry barely had time to register an upturned nose, cold brown eyes, and a hard mouth before the hat shouted "SLYTHERIN!"  The Slytherin table burst into cheers, proud to have the first catch of the evening.

"Ugh, they can have her," said Ron in a low voice.

"Bradshaw, Jocelyn!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The students continued to be Sorted one after another, but after nearly a quarter of them had come and gone, Harry had become keenly aware that none of them had been put into Gryffindor.  More people than Harry had realized this; the Gryffindors were all eyeing each other nervously.  Students at the other House tables were beginning to mutter amongst themselves.  Even the staff seemed disconcerted; Dumbledore was leaning forward in his chair, Bellaton was frowning over his goblet, and Professor McGonagall's mouth had gone very thin.  It wasn't until after Edward Frost became a Hufflepuff that it happened.

"Grantham, Sheldon!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table exploded in the loudest cheer for a new student yet.  Professor McGonagall exhaled slowly and her shoulders drooped, but she instantly squared them again, and the Sorting continued.

"Hawkley, Georgiana!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

After this, no one seemed to worry anymore, and the Sorting eventually concluded with Stuart Yates becoming a Ravenclaw.

Dumbledore stood up again, and the clapping and cheering died down.  "Welcome to Hogwarts, everyone.  I shall bore you with a speech in good time, but for now – enjoy the feast!"

Instantly the four House tables were laden with every good thing: hams and roasted chicken, potatoes and salads, puddings and sauces.  Everyone set to with a will.

"Did you catch what the Sorting Hat said?" said Ron through a mouthful of bread.

"Watch it, Ron, you're going to start spraying crumbs," said Harry.

Ron swallowed.  "Sorry."

"And yeah, we did," said Harry.

"How would the hat know about what's going on in the world?  It's a _hat_, you see," said Ron.

"Yes, but it sits in Dumbledore's office, doesn't it?" said Harry  "And it's not exactly an inanimate object.  Godric Gryffindor gave it the ability to think."

"Well, in any case, it knows that You-Know-Who is back," said Hermione, dropping her voice very low.  "I think that hat is pretty smart, and I think that we should listen."

"No way I'm getting chummy with the Slytherins," said Ron darkly, glaring over at their archrivals' table.

"They aren't going to want to take the first step either," hissed Hermione.

"Now Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, they're all right –"

"You only think that because they hate the Slytherins too, they want to win the House Cup as badly as we do –"

"No, I think that because they're not a bunch of arrogant, nasty –"

"Would you _please_ stop?" snapped Harry in complete exasperation.  Ron and Hermione turned to stare at him as if they had entirely forgotten that he was there.  "Look, the hat may think we should stop being rivals, but there's no way I'm going to be friendly with Malfoy."

"This isn't about him," began Hermione, but Harry cut her off.

"So here's what I'll do.  I'll do my part and leave them alone."

Ron snorted.  "We always leave them alone, _they_ pick fights with _us_."

"Yeah, well, then the ball's in their court," said Harry.  "If they want to go on being prats then we'll know who destroyed the school, won't we?"

"That's not funny," said Hermione, but Ron raised his goblet in salute.

"Too right," he said.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione ate until they could hold no more.  Eventually most of the students had finished eating, and Dumbledore stood up again.  The chattering students fell silent one by one until the entire Hall was quiet.

"Thank you," said Dumbledore.  "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  I expect that most of you enjoyed a long, lazy summer, but now that you are back, it is time to fill up your heads again.

"We are most fortunate to have two new professors with us this year.  First, Professor Ardoc Bellaton will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts."  Bellaton stood up and smiled down at them all, his short dark beard making his teeth look very white.  Dumbledore and the rest of the staff clapped politely, and the students joined in.

"Look at those shoulders!" Harry heard Lavender say to Parvati.

"Oh, I love his beard…"

Harry and Ron laughed silently into their hands.

"And next we have Professor Celeste Thornby, who will be teaching History of Magic."  A flurry of whispering began as she stood up.

"History of Magic?"

"What happened to Professor Binns?"

"Wow, look at _her…_"  Apparently it was the boys' turn to admire a teacher.

There was more polite applause; Professor Thornby sat down and Dumbledore continued.  "Now for some more general announcements.  First years should be aware that the Dark Forest is out-of-bounds for all students unless accompanied by a teacher.  Mr. Filch has asked me to inform you that Self-Blowing Bubble Gum has been added to the list of banned items, bringing the total up to four hundred and forty-one.  And finally, I do not think that I have to remind any of you that the world is not as quiet as it once was."  If Dumbledore had not had everyone's full attention before, he certainly had it now.  "Hogwarts is perhaps one of the safest places to be in times like these, but you are only as safe as you allow yourselves to be.  Students out-of-bounds at any time will be strictly disciplined.  The rules are in place for your protection, and I –"

"THE ENEMY GAINS STRENGTH.  HIS RANKS MULTIPLY."

 Harry's heart skipped a beat.  Dumbledore stopped talking abruptly and looked down the staff table.  Professor Trelawney was speaking in a harsh, carrying voice that was completely unlike her usual misty sighs.  She was staring straight ahead, her face completely blank.  Harry had heard her speak like this during his third year at Hogwarts.  He knew what was happening – Professor Trelawney was Seeing.

"THE ONE WHO IS MARKED STANDS NOT ALONE AGAINST HIS NEMESIS.  THEY WHO STAND WITH THE ONE WHO IS MARKED WILL REALIZE THEIR UNKNOWN POTENTIAL."

The Great Hall was completely silent; every eye was upon Professor Trelawney.

"THE SACRIFICE MUST BE MADE TO SAFEGUARD THE ONE WHO IS MARKED.  THE MOST ANCIENT OF MAGICS DEFEATS THOSE WHO BRING DEATH.  UPON THIS THE FUTURE DEPENDS."

Professor Trelawney stopped talking but continued to stare straight ahead.  For one long moment, nobody breathed; then Professor Trelawney blinked, shook her head, and said, in her usual misty voice, "Oh, my.  Did I say something?"


	13. Guesswork

**A/N: **Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who reviewed: Elizabeth, Dadaiiro, Samantha, and all those who came before!  There I was, feeling kind of down, and all of a sudden I had reviews and my day was wonderful just like that.  I'm glad someone got my little joke with the book and author in chapter 10: _A History of Magical Conflict _by Warren Pease.  (Warren Pease… War and peace…)  It just worked out so well, I couldn't help myself.  And yes, Elizabeth, that book should be enormous.

To answer your questions, Dadaiiro: Yes, I do think it took some guts for Harry to say thank you to his least favorite teacher.  There's a small amount of mutual respect between them now, but it's fragile.  I don't think that the unpleasantness between Harry and Snape can ever be erased.  They will always dislike each other at the very best; there's going to be more trouble, but I don't see it reaching the fever pitch that we saw in Order of the Phoenix.  And yes, Singers basically just sing magical songs.  It seems logical to me that in Harry Potter's world, some complex things could be done with complex spells, and that's what those songs are.  I also think that there can be spoken spells that are just as complicated.  Singers are special because there aren't many of them.

Here we are with another chapter – in just one day!  This one is a little shorter than what I've been putting out lately, but definitely longer than they were in the beginning.  The chapter break seemed to fall more naturally here.  Enjoy!

Chapter 13: Guesswork

A low buzzing filled the hall.  Students at every table, freed of their paralysis, were turning to look at the Gryffindor table.  At Harry.

Harry could feel every eye upon him, but he kept his own fixed on one spot: Dumbledore.  The headmaster's piercing blue gaze bored into him.  Harry felt that he had been weighed to the ounce and measured to the inch.  He could not look away; it was only when Dumbledore broke eye contact that Harry was freed.  He wanted to dive under the table and hide from all those eyes staring at him.  _Just like last year, this is just like last year..._

"Boys and girls, please," said Dumbledore loudly and firmly, and the noise in the hall ceased.  "Everyone will go to your dormitories immediately.  First years, follow your prefects."  He turned away and began to confer with Professor McGonagall.

Hermione and Neville stood up and began calling for the Gryffindor first years to follow them.  Neither sounded very enthusiastic, and Hermione's voice quavered a tiny bit.

Harry concentrated on the back of Ron's head as he followed his friend out of the Great Hall.  Even when Ron moved to walk by his side Harry continued to stare straight ahead, refusing to look at all the students watching him.  His insides writhed all the way up the staircase and down the hall to the Fat Lady's portrait.  If he hadn't once crashed a flying Ford Anglia into the Whomping Willow, Harry wouldn't have thought there could be a worse way to start the school year.  Why did Trelawney have to make a prediction about him in front of everyone in the school?  Even the ghosts had been there to hear.  At least, he assumed it was about him, and so did everyone else, obviously.  _The one who is marked._  Trelawney had certainly used that phrase often enough during the course of her prediction.  Harry was feeling very conscious of the lightning bolt scar on his forehead.

The group stopped in front of the Fat Lady's portrait.  "Password?" she said regally.

"Constant Vigilance," said Hermione, and the painting swung open to reveal the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.  Ordinarily people would have laughed at the irony of the password, but no one remarked on it as they clambered in.

Harry and Ron went straight up the stairs to their dormitory, which had been marked with a sign that said "Fifth Years".  Their trunks and belongings were already there at the feet of their beds.

Ron shut the door behind them, and Harry sank down on his bed and put his head in his hands.

"Was that a real prediction?" said Ron quietly.

Harry nodded.  "She sounded just like that when she made one during my Divination final third year."

"Blimey," said Ron.  "I didn't think that Trelawney could accurately predict whether or not the sun would rise in the morning.  Why didn't she ever do that in class?"

"I don't think she can control it," said Harry.  "I think it just happens when it happens."

"I suppose it has to be about you, doesn't it?  'The one who is marked stands not alone against his nemesis…'  I'd better write this down."

Ron walked over to his four-poster and bent down to open his trunk, but then he paused.  He reached over to his pillow and picked up a slip of paper.  "Be outside the portrait hole at one o'clock AM sharp.  The headmaster wishes to have a word with you.  Do not tell your classmates.  Signed, Professor McGonagall."

Harry turned and looked at his own pillow.  There, on a yellow piece of parchment, was the same message.  "I've got one, too."

"I'll bet Hermione will find one when she goes up to her room," said Ron.  "Harry, you don't think… that bit about those who stand with you, or whatever it was, reaching their full potential… that wasn't about me and Hermione, was it?"

"I don't know," said Harry wearily.  "I don't know."

Dean, Seamus, and Neville were soon in the room as well.  They sensed that Harry didn't really want to talk about what had just happened, though he did confirm that Professor Trelawney had indeed made a real prediction.

"Bugger, this is heavy," said Dean.  "Hey, did anyone write down what Trelawney said?  I guess she's not such an old fraud after all…"

Harry and Ron stayed out of the common room that evening and went to bed early.  Neville, Dean, and Seamus eventually fell asleep, but Harry could only lie awake, Professor Trelawney's words tumbling through his brain.  Judging by the lack of snores from Ron's four-poster, he wasn't sleeping either.

One o'clock approached.  Harry and Ron pulled on their dressing gowns and left their dormitory as quietly as they could.  The common room was empty, and the fire was burning low.  They slipped out the portrait hole into the corridor.

Hermione was already there waiting.  "I figured you'd gotten these too," she said, showing her slip of paper that was identical to theirs.

They didn't have time to chat; Professor McGonagall was striding down the hall toward them.  "Thank you for being on time," she said quietly.  "Please come with me."

The three of them followed their Head of House down the hallways.  There was no conversation; their footfalls were the only sound.  The silence began to feel so oppressive that Harry was actually glad when Peeves the Poltergeist popped out from behind a chandelier and sneered, "Dead men walking!"

After what seemed an eternity they stopped in front of the stone gargoyle that marked the entrance to the Headmaster's office.  "Florean Fortescue's Fabulously Flavored Frozen Fruit Fantasy," said Professor McGonagall.  The gargoyle rotated with a scraping sound, and a set of stone steps appeared.  They all climbed on, and the statue resumed turning so that they were borne upwards on the spiral stairs.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had all been inside Dumbledore's study before, but the sight of it never failed to impress Harry.  The walls were covered with portraits of Hogwarts' past Headmasters and Headmistresses, all snoozing away.  Strange silver instruments sat on fragile-looking tables; shelves along the far wall held other strange objects, some of which Harry recognized: Godric Gryffindor's sword, the Sorting Hat, and Dumbledore's pensieve.  The headmaster himself was sitting at a large desk, watching Professor Thornby, who was gently stroking Fawkes' scarlet head and humming a little tune.  Professor Bellaton was sitting in a large armchair in front of the desk.  All four of the adults were still wearing their robes from the feast.

"Albus, that password is ridiculously long," said Professor McGonagall in exasperated tones.  "Seven words, all beginning with 'f'?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at them all.  "I suppose you are right," he said, "but I do so enjoy Florean Fortescue's Fabulously Flavored Frozen Fruit Fantasy; I thought it might be a refreshing change for a password."

Professor McGonagall's mouth twitched into a tiny smile.

Harry smiled a little bit too; Ron and Hermione were clearly trying not to.  The leaden weight that had settled in Harry's stomach suddenly felt a little bit lighter.

Dumbledore raised his wand.  "_Reticeo!_"  For a moment, Harry felt as if his ears had been stuffed with cotton, but the sensation passed as quickly as it had come.

"A ward against eavesdropping," said Dumbledore.  "We must be able to speak freely here.  Please, have a seat."  He waved his wand again, and more armchairs appeared in front of the desk.  They all sat with the exception of Professor Thornby, who remained standing but stopped her humming.

"Have some chocolate, all of you.  Especially you," he said to Harry.  He held out a box of Honeydukes' finest confections.  "There may not be any dementors around but it will help settle your nerves."

All six of them took a piece.  "Now," said Dumbledore, "I have had a chat with Professor Trelawney and sent her off to get some rest.  She remembers nothing of what she said, though I'm sure that by tomorrow she will know it by heart."

"She has the gift," murmured Professor McGonagall, "though it manifests itself sporadically."

"Prophecy is a thing that often causes more trouble and confusion than it clears up," said Dumbledore.  "This one, however, seems a bit clearer than most."

"A very little bit – the part that matters, anyway," said Professor McGonagall dryly.

"Harry, Ron, Hermione, I presume that you know why you are here," said Dumbledore, "but just so there is no confusion, I will give you my reason: I believe that this prophecy concerns all three of you, not just Harry."

Ron swallowed.  Hermione looked pale.

"Have another chocolate," said Dumbledore, proffering the box again.  "You'll feel better."  They each took one, though Ron and Hermione's movements seemed exceptionally jerky and automatic.

"Let us go through the prophecy in parts, starting.... here."  Dumbledore picked up a parchment from the desktop.  "'The one who is marked stands not alone against his nemesis.'  If we know who the one who is marked is, we will know who the enemy is.  I know it seems obvious, but let us analyze it rationally."

Bellaton spoke up first.  "Sibyll was addressing the staff and students of Hogwarts.  Therefore we can assume that the person or persons who needed to hear the message were in the listening audience."

"Is that true?" said Hermione.  Her voice was unsteady but gained strength as she went on.  "That a prophecy is given only when the person who needs to hear it is present?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore.  "Of course, that does not preclude others from being around as well, as we saw tonight.  Also, a prophecy could concern any number of people, but only one of them would need to be present when it is given.  If we do assume that Harry is the one who is marked, then we already know that there were people who heard the prophecy that he would have wished to hide it from.  But let us come back to that particular point later."

"We know it's a he," said Harry quietly.  "_His_ nemesis."

"Very good," said Dumbledore, obviously pleased.

"And Harry is marked," said Hermione.

"But does that mark have to be visible?" said Professor Thornby.

The room was silent for a moment, and then Professor McGonagall spoke.  "It does not make sense that this distinction, physical or otherwise, would be unknown to the person who bore it," she said.  "The prophecy would be unrecognized by the people it was meant to reach.  I don't think we can say that no one else in that room was 'tagged' in some way, but Potter here is the clearest choice."

"I agree," said Dumbledore.  "Harry, you are not only marked here –" –he pointed to his own forehead – "-but in other ways as well.  Voldemort has already tried to kill you several times..."

"I'm a marked man," said Harry flatly.

Dumbledore's face was apologetic.  "In a manner of speaking," he admitted.

"You could argue that _I_ am marked by my... unusual ability," said Bellaton, "but I don't think that Sibyll was talking about me.  I don't have a nemesis."

"Exactly," said Professor Thornby.  "And as Harry has just pointed out, he does."

"Great," said Harry.  "So now we've agreed that I'm the one who is marked, and Voldemort is the enemy."

" 'The enemy gains strength.  His ranks multiply,' " said Dumbledore, reading from the parchment.

"So You-Know-Who is recruiting?" said Ron.

"My dear Ronald," said Dumbledore, "let me take this opportunity to encourage you - and you too, Hermione – to use his real name.  I know that no one else does, but the name itself holds no power unless you let it.  Voldemort is not even his real name, technically; he created it to hide from Tom Riddle."

"We know for a fact that he is recruiting," said Bellaton.  "There are always people in the world who will do anything to gain power."  His acid tone left no doubt of what he thought of those people.

"This brings us to the part that is less clear," said Dumbledore.  " 'They who stand with the one who is marked will realize their unknown potential.' "

"And you think that's us?" said Hermione faintly.

"We do," said Professor McGonagall firmly.  "You three have been tighter than a double knot since your first year here.  I've seen few friendships as solid in all my time here, but your marauding father's were some of them, Potter."

Harry's mouth fell open at her choice of words, but he shut it again quickly.  _Of course,_ he thought, _McGonagall's in thick with the plotting against Voldemort just like Remus and Sirius.  She'd know everything._

"Bonds like yours will resist Voldemort's evil," Professor McGonagall continued.  "Besides, we think that you have latent talents – all three of you."

"But there are other people that it could mean, couldn't it?" said Ron.  "Like Lupin, or Sirius, or any of you," he said, looking at the adults.

Dumbledore inclined his head.  "That is very true," he said.  "We are all fighting against Voldemort, and are working to shield Harry from attack, among other things.  Perhaps some or all of us have something yet to learn that we need to defeat him.  However, if there is anyone here who stands beside Harry and has unrealized potential, it's the two of you."

Ron and Hermione looked very unsure of what to make of this.

"And then the last," prompted Professor Thornby quietly.

Dumbledore's face became even more somber.  " 'The sacrifice must be made to safeguard the one who is marked.  The most ancient of magics defeats those who bring death.  Upon this the future depends.' "

"And what sacrifice is that?" said Ron hoarsely.

Dumbledore sighed.  "We have discussed this already, and we have no idea," he said.  "As we have already noted, prophecies often do nothing but create confusion.  I fear that this piece of it will not be understood until it actually comes to pass."

"We agree that 'ancient magics' may refer to Singing," said Bellaton.  "It's been around since the beginning of recorded magical history, and it is a weapon that Voldemort has himself but does not know we have."

"There are many very old spells, charms, and forms of protection.  Not all of them even involve magic at all," said Professor McGonagall.

"This, also, I think we will not understand until it has already occurred," said Dumbledore, "but I 'bringers of death' are most likely Voldemort's followers."

"The Death Eaters," said Hermione.

"Indeed."

Ron sighed and rubbed at his temples.  "I don't think I like being part of a prophecy."

Dumbledore smiled; Harry thought he looked a bit sad.  "And you, Hermione?"

"I don't know," she said quietly.  "It's all so unclear."

Bellaton barked a short laugh.  "This one was better than most," he said.

"Harry?" said Dumbledore.  "Do you have anything you want to say?"

Harry looked into the headmaster's blue eyes, kindly and calm.  "How long are you going to have to protect me?"

"Until you no longer need it," he replied.  "I do not know when that will be, but at that time you will be able to stand on your own two feet.  Voldemort wants you dead very badly, and even after all these years, I have only a suspicion of why."  Harry opened his mouth, but Dumbledore forestalled him.  "Before you ask, I will say now that I cannot tell you what that is yet.  I am quite certain that I have the reason, but I need one more piece of proof before I present my suspicions as fact.  Will that satisfy you for now?"

It was frustrating, but Harry knew there was nothing he could do.  If Dumbledore wasn't going to tell him now, there was no sense beating his head against a stone wall.  He nodded reluctantly.  "What about everyone else who heard the prophecy?" he said.

"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore.  "We cannot forget about that."

"This will be in the _Daily Prophet_ before long," said Professor Thornby.  "Maybe not tomorrow, but soon."

"I will see to it that the _Prophet_ receives the exact and complete prophecy," said Dumbledore.

"Why?" said Ron incredulously.  "That paper is a piece of trash!  Why make their job easier for them?"

"Telling them the truth is the best thing I can do for any of you at this point," said Dumbledore patiently.  "Hundreds of students heard some very potent words tonight.  How many will remember them correctly?  Tomorrow, half the school will be saying that Professor Trelawney said the name 'Harry Potter' during the prophecy, and the other half will be saying that Voldemort has built an army that will besiege Hogwarts next week.  No, the truth is preferable to the alternative."

"But Voldemort – the Death Eaters – they'll read about it, too!" said Ron.  "No, wait... they're already going to know."

"Malfoy.  Crabbe.  Goyle," said Hermione.  "They'll tell their fathers as soon as they can – I'll bet anything they've already sent owls."

"The sins of the father do not automatically make the son guilty," said Professor Thornby.

Ron laughed bitterly.  "You haven't met these guys," he said.

"Professor Thornby is right," said Professor McGonagall.  "Their fathers may be Death Eaters, but Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle are not."

"They're Death Eaters in training!" said Harry viciously.  "Just look at the way they behave, they'll be naturals..."

"No," said Dumbledore firmly.  "They are what their parents have made them.  They have been taught to hate what is good and kind; when you antagonize them you do further damage.  Do not treat them as they treat you – it is for your own good as well as theirs.  You may not see it, but the choices you make now regarding these young men may have consequences for years to come."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, we already talked about this today," said Harry, feeling rather annoyed.  "Because of what the Sorting Hat said and all."

"It's wise of you to listen," said Professor McGonagall.  "The hat gave sound advice."

"Why don't you talk to Malfoy?" said Hermione.  "You could tell him what you've told us."

"Do you think for a moment that he would take well to hearing me criticize his family and their philosophy?" said Dumbledore.  "That kind of direct assault is probably the worst thing I could do.  Through the influence of his father, Draco considers himself above authority and superior to the rest of the students.  Telling someone like him that he is mistaken only makes the problem worse; you must _show_ him.  Actions speak louder than words."

"Why is it up to us to save Draco Malfoy?" said Ron.  He looked and sounded angry.

"That is not your responsibility," said Dumbledore gravely.  "All you can do is show him another way of life.  Eventually he will have to decide for himself what he wants; unfortunately, there is no way to tell exactly how much he has chosen for himself already."

Harry and his friends absorbed this in silence.  "Is there anything else you wish to know?" said Dumbledore.

None of them spoke.

"Very well," the headmaster continued.  "Then let me just say one last thing: keep your wits about you!  It is difficult to say what the ramifications of this evening's events will be.  All four of us will be looking out for you –" – Professor Bellaton smiled and winked at them – "-but there is no substitute for your own watchfulness."  He glanced a large grandfather clock in the corner.  "My, but it is late.  You should return to your beds and get some sleep."

Professor McGonagall stood up; so did Harry, Ron, and Hermione.  The other professors wished them a good night, and they followed Professor McGonagall out of the office.

When they reached the Fat Lady's portrait, Professor McGonagall reached into her robes and handed them each one of three silvery-white candies wrapped in cellophane.  "Take these in the morning," she said.  "You have missed half a night's worth of sleep, so you'll need them to get through the day tomorrow."

"Constant Vigilance," said Harry, and the portrait swung open.

Professor McGonagall's face broke into a real smile.  "You Gryffindors have quite a sense of humor," she said fondly.  "Get some rest; tomorrow is a new day.  I'll see you all in class."  And still smiling, she turned and walked back down the hall the way she had come.


	14. Sweet and Sour

Chapter 14: Sweet and Sour

Harry was groggy when he opened his eyes the next morning.  He desperately wanted to go back to sleep, but he knew that the day was going to start anyway, with or without him.

Harry climbed out of bed and began to dress.  Seamus, Dean, and Neville were already gone, but the curtains of Ron's four-poster were still closed.

"Wake up, Ron," said Harry.

"Mmmmph… goway."

Harry reached over and picked up his Firebolt that was leaning against the wall.  He took hold of the twigs and jabbed at the curtains with the handle.

"Ow!" yelped Ron.  The curtains flew aside; Ron was sitting bolt upright, looking very grumpy.  "What'd you do that for?"

"I'm getting you out of bed," said Harry.  "Come on, we're going to be late."

Ron groaned.  "Ugh, I feel like I didn't sleep at all," he said.

"Me too," said Harry, "but at least we've got these."  He unwrapped his silver-white candy and popped it in his mouth.

The candy had been solid enough in the wrapper, but the moment it touched his tongue it began to dissolve.  Harry recognized the refreshing sensation that began to flow through him when he swallowed it – it was just like the effect of the potion Dumbledore had made him drink when he first woke up at Alverbrooke.  But where the potion had been tasteless, the candy was sugary sweet.

"Do they help?" said Ron from inside his cardigan, his voice muffled.

"Yeah," said Harry.  He was in the act of gathering up his books when he remembered the talisman Remus and Sirius had given him.  Ron was still staggering about the dormitory, so he didn't notice Harry remove the small box from his trunk, pin the emerald to the inside of his shirt, and tuck the box away again.  Harry hadn't quite decided whether or not to tell Ron and Hermione about the gift, but for the time being he was content to let it remain a secret.

Harry pulled on his robes and turned to look at himself in the mirror.  Under all those layers of clothing, the talisman was completely invisible.

"I'm heading down to breakfast, you're taking too long," said Harry.  Ron mumbled something unintelligible for an answer, and Harry left.

He found Hermione at the Gryffindor table.  She was so focused on a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ that she failed to notice when a large blob of jam slid off her toast and onto her robes.  "So you renewed your subscription?" said Harry, sitting down next to her and reaching for the bacon.

"Mmmm," she said.  She scanned the paper for a moment longer, then folded it up.  "Not a word about the prophecy," she said.  "I don't think we'll be so lucky tomorrow, though.  Where's Ron?"

"Still getting dressed," said Harry.  "He'll speed up once he eats his candy."  Mention of the prophecy made Harry aware of the unusual level of noise in the Great Hall.  The morning meal was usually the quietest of the day, but on this morning, everyone seemed to be doing more talking than eating.  Harry concentrated on his breakfast and willed them keep on ignoring him and talking to each other.

Ron appeared in the Great Hall with just enough time to wolf down some food and compare schedules.  "What've we got first?" he asked around a mouthful of egg.

Hermione winced at his manners, but she pulled her schedule out of her bag.  "Well, Potions is first.  With the Slytherins," she added.  "Then I have Ancient Runes, and after lunch there's History of Magic and Care of Magical Creatures.  Ugh, with the Slytherins again!"

"Potions first thing Monday morning," sighed Harry.  "What a way to start the week."

"Hurry up, Ron, we've got ten minutes to get all the way down to the dungeons," urged Hermione.

They made it with two minutes to spare, and took their usual seats.  As Harry set up his cauldron, he was keenly aware of all the people stealing furtive glances at him.  Malfoy was leering especially hard, but Harry pretended that he hadn't noticed, and kept his eyes on his equipment.

The dungeon door banged open.  Snape strode into the classroom in his usual flurry of black and began to lecture them without preamble.  "Your fifth year at Hogwarts is one of the most important and demanding of the seven you experience here," he said in a hard voice.  "The marks you receive on your O.W.L.s determine the courses you can take in your sixth and seventh years, as well as the careers you may enter into.  I will tell you now that I am disappointed every year in the work of most of the students, and nothing but the most exceptional work will gain you admission into my Advanced Potions classes.  So if you wish to become an Alchemist, Auror, Healer, or enter into any one of the other many professions that requires skill in potionmaking, you will work harder this year than you ever have before, or your dreams will become dust."

Hermione's face was a mask of determination; Ron went pale and gulped.

Snape's coal-black eyes scoured the class.  He spent no more time looking at Harry than he did at anyone else, and Harry noticed that not even Malfoy was spared.

"That being said," Snape said, his lip curling, "we will start the year by reviewing a few more _basic_ potions.  Based on last year's examinations, a _very_ scant few of you possess the skills necessary to enter into Advanced Potions."  Harry knew that the only person he could possibly be referring to was Hermione, whose work was always flawless.

"And you, Mr. Potter," said Snape.  Harry blinked in surprise.  "You will have to work very hard to convince me that your work is up to snuff as I have absolutely no final grades from last year to gauge your work by."

Harry set his jaw.  This was horribly unfair; all the Triwizard champions had been exempt from final examinations on Dumbledore's orders.  However different Snape had seemed at Alverbrooke, he was certainly back to his old self.  "Yes, sir," he said coldly, meeting the Potions Master stare for stare.  He didn't need to see Malfoy's face to know that Draco was smirking gleefully at him.  _I'll show you, you greasy old vampire!_ thought Harry._  I'm going to be an Auror and you're not going to stop me!_

Snape turned away from Harry and waved his wand at the blackboard.  A piece of chalk floated off the rack and began to write instructions upon the board.  "We will be making Shrinking Solutions today," he said.  "You may begin."

No one spoke to each other during the entire length of the class.  Harry concentrated as hard as he could on weighing his ingredients exactly, letting the potion simmer for the right length of time, stirring it in the proper direction the correct number of times…  It was tiring work to be so scrupulous for so long, but as the end of the hour approached, Harry's cauldron contained a clear green solution that looked just like Hermione's.  Ron's had a distinctly bluish tinge to it, but Harry knew that it was far better than what Ron usually turned out.

"Time is up," Snape said softly from the front of the room.  "Put down your spoons.  Right now, Miss Brown!  You will clean up only after I have inspected everyone's work."

Snape began to circle the room, peering into the students' cauldrons and making notes on a parchment.  He was as merciless with the Slytherins as he was with the Gryffindors.  "Miss Brown, this is absolutely appalling… Mr. Longbottom, did you add the pomegranate juice at all?… No, no, no, Goyle, read the instructions, you never stirred counterclockwise!"

A ball of ice formed in Harry's stomach as Snape came over to his bench.  He awarded Hermione full marks in an utterly expressionless voice, and snapped at Ron that he had not simmered his potion long enough.  Finally he peered into Harry's cauldron, and then into Harry's eyes.  "Did you have help from Miss Granger, Mr. Potter?" he hissed.

"Ron, as you see, is standing between us," said Harry flatly, holding Snape's gaze.  "And no one spoke during the entire class."

Snape narrowed his eyes but straightened up and said, rather grudgingly, "Miracles do happen.  Full marks, Potter."

They cleared up as quickly as they could; it was a long way from the dungeons to the tower where Divination was held.

"See you at lunch," said Hermione as they left the dungeons.  "Good job, Harry!"

"Wow," said Ron as they climbed the stone staircase to the first floor.  "Full marks!  I thought Snape was going to find some excuse to dock your grade."

"Your potion turned out pretty well, too," said Harry.

"Yeah, it was pretty good for me, wasn't it?" said Ron.  His face became rather downcast.  "I didn't know that you needed Advanced Potions to become an Auror," he said.

"Is that what you want to do?" said Harry.  "Be an Auror?"

"I think so," said Ron.  "I mean, it'd be wicked, wouldn't it?  Everyone knows they're the best of the best."

"Well, that's what I want to do, too," said Harry.  "You could argue that I was born to do it…"

"Yeah, you're like an unofficial Junior Auror," said Ron, laughing.

"Who's more lucky than skilled," said Harry.

"We could be Aurors together!" said Ron excitedly.  "That'd be grand…"

"I don't think this year is going to be much fun," said Harry.  "If we're going to be Aurors then we're going to have to get into Snape's Advanced Potions class."

"You know, that's almost enough to make me reconsider," said Ron.  "Maybe we should talk to McGonagall, I'll bet she'd tell us what we have to do."

"Good idea," said Harry.  "We've got Transfiguration tomorrow, we can talk to her after class."

They had reached the silvery ladder that led to the Divination classroom.  "At least we won't have to take _this_ class next year," said Harry.  "There's no way you need to be able to read tea leaves to fight Dark wizards."

They climbed the ladder through the trapdoor.  The classroom was full of small tables surrounded by chintz poufs.  On each table sat a small tea lamp draped with a colored silk cloth; the shades on the windows were partly drawn so that the entire room was bathed in a kind of half-light.  A smell of incense hung heavily in the air.

Harry and Ron took seats at one of the small tables, and Ron sneezed violently.  "Ugh, it smells a lot stronger than… ACHOO!… usual.  I don't think this class is going to be any picnic either," he said, rubbing his nose.  "You can bet that all we're going to hear about is what happened last night…"

"Well, _they _can't wait to talk about it," said Harry, pointing at Parvati and Lavender who were sitting at a table not far away, positively quivering with excitement.  

They did not have to wait long for Professor Trelawney to appear.  She swooped into the room draped in her usual shawls and bangles; her large glasses magnified her eyes, making her seem extraordinarily bug-like.

"Good morning, class!" she purred.  "What an exciting time this is!  For as you all observed last night, I have recently Seen!"

Parvati, Lavender, and several of the other girls clapped enthusiastically.

"Thank you, thank you," said Professor Trelawney, clasping her hands together and looking very pleased with herself.  "But do not expect me to be able to teach you how to do it; only if you are born with the gift can you truly See."

"Ooooh, Professor, what was it like?" breathed Lavender.

Professor Trelawney swooped over to her table.  Ron put his hands around his own throat and pantomimed strangling himself.

"I will not lie to you," said Professor Trelawney softly.  "It is a dark and frightening experience.  When the Inner Eye is unlidded, the Seer can do nothing but let herself be the conduit.  Sadly, I am unable to recall what it revealed."  She sighed tragically.

Harry exchanged looks of surprise with Ron.  They had not expected her to admit that.

"But all is not lost," said Professor Trelawney.  "Hundreds of people heard my words, and they have been repeated back to me."  She turned to Harry, whose stomach sank.  This was what he had been dreading.  "My dear child," she breathed.

Harry stiffed automatically.  _Child?_

"Destiny has labeled you; the Inner Eye is focused upon you!  Your very presence at this school will make prophecy flow like a river –"

"What?" exclaimed Harry.  "I was there too, you never said my name –"

"You are _twice_ marked," she continued, "by He Who Must Not Be Named and by the heavens as well!"

"The planets are _not_ watching me!" snapped Harry.  "Jupiter doesn't care what I do!"

Professor Trelawney was completely unperturbed; on the contrary, she looked positively ecstatic.  "You cannot fight your destiny," she trilled.  "The Inner Eye is powerfully drawn to you.  If there is another in this class with the gift, perhaps your proximity will allow their talent to be revealed!"

Ron looked completely horrified as he stared openmouthed at Professor Trelawney.  Half the class was looking at Harry sympathetically while the other half eyed him eagerly.  Lavender and Parvati were in transports of delight.  Harry felt his face burning under the scrutiny.

Professor Trelawney glided away from Harry and Ron's table.  "Alas, I fear we must get on with our work.  Take out your textbooks, please."

It turned out that Professor Trelawney had a review of old topics planned for the day as well.  Harry and Ron soon found themselves drinking bitter tea down to the dregs.  They turned their cups over onto their saucers and stared at the lumpy, incomprehensible masses that were left.

"Take a few minutes to examine your tea leaves," said Professor Trelawney.  "Then we will go round the room and share what we see."

"Do you know," said Ron, who was squinting at their saucers, "I don't think we're going to be able to resort to predicting your death anymore, now that the Inner Eye is focused on you, but that lump over there sure looks like the Grim."

Harry smiled a bit despite his bad mood.  "All right, these streaks over here look like flames, and this blob looks sort of like a Snitch… and there are five stems in a puddle, so that means… a fifth year with flaming red hair is going to try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team and take over the Seeker position."

"Nice one, but I can state with authority that there are no fifth year Gryffindors with red hair that want to play Seeker," said Ron.  "Besides, I still say that's the Grim, not a Snitch."

"Fine," said Harry.  "Then what's that mess on your saucer?"

"I see a very tightly closed Inner Eye," snickered Ron.

"No, no, you fool, that's a house-elf with two heads," said Harry.

They spent enough time messing around that Harry had to resort to saying he saw the Grim when Professor Trelawney came around to their table.  To no one's surprise, she disagreed.

"My dear, how can you not see?  It is a guttering candle… danger is lurking in your future…"

Harry was relieved that she did not go back into all that nonsense about his importance to the Inner Eye before dismissing the class.  He and Ron made their way to the Great Hall as quickly as possible where the tables were already laden with sandwiches and pumpkin juice.  Hermione met them on their way in.

"So how was Divination?" she asked softly.

"Useless as always," said Harry.

"Today we learned that Harry directs the planets in their orbits," said Ron.

"Oh, no," said Hermione.

"Oh, yes," said Harry darkly.  "Trelawney is convinced that her prophecy was about me."

Hermione shrugged.  "Her and the rest of the school," she said.  "That's not so bad."

"Ah, but that's not all," said Ron.  "More prophecies are likely because the Inner Eye is so strongly drawn to him."

"What a load of old tosh," said Hermione.  "I don't understand why you don't just drop that class and pick up something else."

"Because we can skive off, of course," said Ron.  "Arithmancy, Ancient Runes… we'd have to think in those classes, Hermione!"

"Heaven forbid," she said wryly.

"Well, it's the last year we're going to have to take it, anyway," said Harry.  "You don't have to be able to read tea leaves to become an Auror."

"Oh, you've been thinking about your career!" said Hermione approvingly.  "But it sounds like it's awfully tough to join their ranks…"

"I'm going to go for it too," said Ron.

Hermione didn't say anything.  Ron glared at her.  "You don't think I can do it," he said.

"I didn't say that," said Hermione.

"Yes you did, you said it when you didn't say anything at all," Ron countered.

Hermione sighed.  "Look, Ron, there's no way I can say this without offending you –"

"I'm not offended," said Ron tartly.

"You've never been willing to put your nose to the grindstone before," she continued, "and I don't see how you're going to be able to start now, not with all your years of non-practice."

"Well, what about Harry?" said Ron.  "He's never worked as hard as you have either, and I don't hear you telling _him_ not to bother trying –"

"I'm not telling you that!" snapped Hermione.  "And I didn't tell Harry anything either!"

"I _am_ going to do it, just wait and see," said Ron.

"I didn't say it was a bad idea!"

Ron opened his mouth again, but Harry had had enough.  "We're going to talk to Professor McGonagall about it tomorrow after class," he said sharply.  "And if you two want to argue any more, please tell me now so I can go sit with Fred and George."

Ron and Hermione resorted to glaring resentfully at one another for the rest of the lunch hour.  On top of this, most of the students in the Great Hall were talking about last night's surprise prophecy if the way they kept turning to look at Harry was any judge.  All the stares from his fellow students and the hurt silence between his friends were getting on his nerves, so Harry was very glad when it was finally time to head to History of Magic.  Ron and Hermione seemed to forget to be angry with each other when they remembered, en route, that Professor Binns wasn't teaching anymore.

When they first entered the classroom, Harry thought they had gone to the wrong place until he saw his fellow students looking around in confusion as well.  The room had been completely transformed.  Gone were the heavy curtains from the windows, which had been thrown open to admit the afternoon breeze.  The bookshelves that lined the walls were now dust and cobweb-free.  Harry realized that for the first time, he could see the gilded letters on the spines of the books.  The chalkboard was freshly scrubbed, and the desk at the front of the room had been polished until it shone.  A large rosebush sat in the corner, its pink-orange flowers giving off a light scent.

Professor Thornby entered looking as fresh and clean in her pale blue robes as the rest of the room.  She had piled her hair behind her head in an intricate twist, and Harry thought that she looked very teacher-like indeed.

"Good afternoon," she said, smiling around at them all.  "Welcome to History of Magic."  She waved her wand, and a piece of chalk floated up to the blackboard and wrote _Professor Celeste Thornby_ before drifting back down to the tray again.  "I understand that you were all previously taught by Professor Binns, is that correct?"

"Yes ma'am, in a manner of speaking," said Seamus.

Several students snickered at this apt characterization.  "Thank you, Mr. Finnigan," said Professor Thornby, looking at a class roster in her hand.  "Very well, can someone give me an overview of what you have studied so far?" she continued.

There was a pause.  Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss… Granger?" said Professor Thornby, as if she had never seen Hermione before.

"Goblin rebellions," said Hermione succinctly.

"Goblin rebellions?" the professor repeated.

"Yes, that and the Giant Wars," said Hermione.  "That's pretty much it."

"I see," said Professor Thornby.  "Rest assured that we will not be discussing goblin rebellions or the Giant Wars as main topics this year.  However, you are woefully behind on just about everything else, so be prepared to work.  Professor Bellaton and I have decided that History of Magic and Defense Against the Dark Arts should be taught in tandem this year.  In my class you will be learning the history behind many of the spells and defense techniques that you will use in his."

The students looked at each other with barely-concealed excitement.

"Have you all a copy of the textbook for this class?"

Everyone pulled out _A History of Magical Conflict_, which was rather thick and heavy.

"Excellent.  We will be starting with the so-called War of Darkness, which began in 1435.  This was an especially long and messy affair, but some of the most ingenious and complex attacks and defenses were devised during it.  Can anyone tell me who instigated this war?"

Hermione's hand shot up in the air.  Hers was the only one that was raised.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"The Dark Sorceress Carabosse enchanted the Princess of Romania to forever sleep," Hermione recited.  "The witches and wizards loyal to her father fought back.  The conflict lasted twenty years, and during the course of it most of the kingdom was cursed to sleep as well."

"Very good!" said Professor Thornby.  "Ten points to Gryffindor."  Hermione flushed with pleasure.

"The modern fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty comes from the War of Darkness," Professor Thornby continued.  "In some of the tellings, the wicked witch is named as Carabosse.  She did indeed curse Princess Katerina to sleep and caused a thicket of Boarspear Brambles to grow around the place where she was kept, but that is where the similarity ends.  No one pricked their finger on any spindles, and no princes ever managed to come to her rescue.  According to most sources, Princess Katerina was not a widely remarked beauty..."

Harry had never enjoyed a History of Magic lesson before, but Professor Thornby was incredibly different from Professor Binns.  She told the story of the War of Darkness and included more than just the basic facts; the entire class was mesmerized, hanging on her every word.  Even her description of how the Confundus Charm was developed to keep would-be curse breakers away from the castle was fascinating.  Man-eating plants, the Breath Stealer curse, armies of witches and wizards clashing against each other...

A bell chimed, signaling the end of the class.  Harry blinked.  Had the whole two hours gone by already?  At the desk next to him, Harry saw Hermione look down at her mostly blank parchment with dismay; she had been too engrossed to take notes.

The Gryffindors separated from their classmates and headed outside toward Hagrid's hut, discussing their new teacher the whole way.

"_Much_ better than Professor Binns," said Dean.  "I think that's the first time I've actually been awake for the whole class."

"Yeah," said Seamus.  "She's a better teacher and she's a heck of a lot better looking…"

"What do you think of her, Harry?" asked Neville.

Harry hadn't intended to join in the conversation, as he didn't quite know how to act like Professor Thornby was as new to him as she was to everyone else.  "Er… it was a great class," he said.  It was a bit lame, but it would do.

When the Gryffindors arrived at Hagrid's hut, the Slytherins were already there waiting with the half-giant.  Hagrid was wearing a huge leather glove on his right arm, upon which a fierce, beautiful bird was sitting.  Two more just like it were sitting on a short, horizontal pole attached to the hut.

Hagrid beamed at Harry and his classmates as they came walking up.  "Welcome back to Care o' Magical Creatures, ev'ryone," he said heartily.  "Now, it's yer O.W.L. year, so we're goin' to be coverin' some neat stuff.  Yeh'll be needin' a broad base o' knowledge fer yer tests."  He raised his right arm, which was bent at a right angle, until it was parallel with the ground.  "This here is a falcon."

"Ooooh, he's beautiful," cooed Parvati.

"This one's a she, s'matter o' fact," said Hagrid.  "Muggles know abou' falcons, too, so yeh might think yeh don't need ter learn about 'em."  He glared at Goyle, who put on a look of such wide-eyed innocence that Harry had to wonder what had transpired before the Gryffindors had showed up.

"Yeh'd be wrong ter think it," said Hagrid.  "They're dead useful; been around witches 'an wizards fer centuries.  They can catch things while movin' at high speed: birds, broomsticks, an' things sittin' still.  Barnaby Armbrister used a falcon ter snatch an enchanted necklace off his sister's neck.  She was a powerful witch an' a threat to the Dark Wizard Marbidan, so he captured her an' was keepin' her in the heart o' his fortress.  He was controllin' her with the necklace, an' when it was gone… she fought from inside an' Armbrister's army fought from outside.  Smashed Marbidan like an egg."  Hagrid stroked the falcon's back with one huge finger.  "Like I said, dead useful.  Don' like owls much, though.  Got ter keep these three away from the school or they'd be killed off, but not before takin' a few o' the owls out."

Hagrid pulled a small blue stone out of his pocket.  "Today yer goin' ter learn how ter handle the falcons," he said.  Harry and Ron exchanged excited grins; this sounded like fun.  Several of the girls squealed, and the Slytherins even forgot to act disdainful.

Hagrid moved a short distance away from the students, wound up, and threw the blue stone high into the air.  Harry and the others watched it rocket up into the sky but quickly lost sight of it.  Hagrid lifted his right arm, and the falcon spread its wings and took off.  They watched it climb higher and higher until there came a sudden hitch in its fluid motion and the bird plummeted back toward the earth.  Hagrid stretched out his arm; the falcon stretched out its wings and opened the tightly clenched talons of one foot.  The blue stone tumbled to the ground and the falcon landed gently on Hagrid's glove.

The students clapped appreciatively.  "Fantastic birds!" said Hagrid, beaming.  "All righ', s'yer turn now."  He moved through them, dividing them into three groups.  Two of them contained solely Gryffindors and Slytherins, while the third was a mix.  "You lot stay with me," said Hagrid darkly to the mixed group, who were eyeing each other with distaste.  He handed a long leather glove to a student in each of the groups.  "Let yer falcon walk onto yer wrist," said Hagrid.  "Don' try an' pick 'em up, they don' allow it."

Ron was the first to go from Harry's group.  "It's heavy!" he exclaimed, trying to hold his arm like Hagrid had done.  Malfoy had taken the other bird and was holding it with a confident air.  Lavender had taken Hagrid's; she looked as awkward as Ron, eyeing her bird nervously.

Hagrid handed them each a stone of a different color.  "Move apart a ways… tha's right… Malfoy, you firs'.  Throw yer stone and raise yer arm, the bird knows what ter do."

Malfoy stepped forward with a smug expression on his face.  He threw his stone hard, and then moved the arm that held the falcon forward.  When the bird came soaring back, he stood rock-steady while it landed on his glove again.

"Very good!" said Hagrid.  "I can tell yeh've done this before."

"Of course," drawled Malfoy, looking proudly around at the other students.  "I've been hawking since I was eight."

"Good, yeh can help yer classmates," said Hagrid.  Malfoy glared at him, but Hagrid didn't seem to notice.

They began taking turns with the falcons, sharing the long leather gloves and throwing the stones for the birds to retrieve.  Harry thought he did fairly well as it wasn't all that different from handling an owl.  The falcons were much lighter than Hedwig, but they had fiercer eyes and sharper talons, and Hedwig never flew back to land on Harry's arm.  It was hard not to flinch when the bird came soaring back with its talons outstretched.

"That was a good lesson, wasn't it?" said Hermione as they trooped back inside for dinner.  "Falcons may not be mythical creatures but they seem very practical."

"Hermione, only you could describe a bird of prey as 'practical'," said Ron.

"Owls are birds of prey," she said, "and they're very practical, wouldn't you agree?"

"He agrees!" said Harry, before Ron could answer.  "Don't start again, please!"

It had been a day that equally mixed with the good and the bad.  Harry had received his best Potions mark ever, History of Magic had been great, and the falcons had been fun.  On the other hand, Divination had been humiliating beyond all measure and Ron and Hermione seemed determined to fight.  Harry had been feeling good after Hagrid's class, but as his friends continued to snipe at one another all through dinner and the rest of the students just wouldn't stop staring at him, his mood sank lower and lower.  Halfway through dinner Harry decided that he couldn't bear the scrutiny any longer; he picked up a few extra dinner rolls and walked out.  Ron and Hermione were too wrapped up in their argument to notice him going.  The noise level rose audibly as he slipped out the door, making Harry grit his teeth in frustration.

Harry walked alone through the empty corridors, dwelling on the prophecy again.  He had no particular destination in mind, but Harry's feet somehow found their way to the Owlery.  He spotted Hedwig on a perch up near the rafters, and she swooped down to rest on his shoulder.

"Hi, Hedwig," said Harry sadly, ripping up one of the dinner rolls for her to nibble on.  She seemed to catch his mood and hooted dolefully.  "When there's no one else, I've always got you," Harry said, stroking her back absently.

Something made Harry turn around.  When he saw who was standing there he realized why; Professor Thornby had become a stronger presence in his mind as she drew nearer to the place where he was.

"Feeling low?" she said sympathetically.  "Here, I brought you a sandwich – you're still hungry, aren't you?"

"Yeah," said Harry, gratefully taking the offering.  "How did you know?"

"Well, I've gotten used to your being in here," she said, touching her temple with her index finger, "but if I concentrate, I can tell how you're feeling, and tonight it's depressed and hungry."  She walked up to Harry and held out her arm.  "May I?"

"Sure, if she'll let you," said Harry.  Hedwig walked sideways from Harry's arm onto Professor Thornby's.  "She's a beautiful owl," she said as she gently stroked Hedwig's feathers.

"Hagrid gave her to me," said Harry, biting into his sandwich.  

"I have an owl, too.  Athena," she said.  "A screech owl, actually.  It's a good thing she's off delivering a letter or she'd probably attack me for holding this lovely creature."  Hedwig hooted with pleasure under all the pampering.

"I was wondering if you needed someone to talk to," Professor Thornby said after a moment.  "Your friends seem rather focused on each other."

"They argue a lot," said Harry peevishly.  "They just egg each other on and on until the smallest thing becomes a really big deal."

"Yes, I'd noticed that this summer," said Professor Thornby, sounding amused.

Harry shrugged.  "They'll be back to normal tomorrow."  Professor Thornby, seeing that he'd finished the sandwich, handed Hedwig back to him.  There was something comforting about the owl's warm weight.  He looked down at her big amber eyes, wanting to talk about what was really bothering him, but not wanting to bring it up at the same time.

"They'll stop talking about it soon," she said, as if she had read his mind.

_Well, she can read my mind, sort of,_ thought Harry.  "Not soon enough," he said bitterly.  "The prophecy wasn't in the paper today but it will be tomorrow, and it'll just make things worse."

Professor Thornby sighed.  "That's true," she said, "but they'll forget about it.  It may take a few days but when no lightning falls from the sky, the novelty will wear off and things will go back to normal.  Be strong, Harry.  It will pass."

Her voice was very kind and gentle but Harry didn't answer.  She was right and there was nothing to debate.

There was a long silence.  "Well.  Think on it, Harry," she said, turning to go, and Harry knew that she had sensed his confusion; he could feel her own determination not to make him feel any worse.  "If you ever need someone to talk to, you know where to find me," she said.  She gave Hedwig one last pat and headed for the door.

She was nearly gone from the owlery before Harry thought of what to say.  "Thank you," he said.

Professor Thornby turned to look at him from the doorway and smiled beautifully.  "You're welcome," she said, and disappeared down the stairs.


	15. The Confundus Charm

**A/N:** Many thanks to siri-padfoot, hermionegreen, and Blueberry for your reviews!  I really appreciate the encouragement, and I hope the story continues to entertain you.  As such there are long periods between 'action scenes'; Harry needs time to grow and gain depth as a character.  There are pages and pages of later material that I've already written, but I'm not caught up with the stuff in the middle yet.  A hint of things to come: werewolves and vampires are among the dark creatures that Voldemort is recruiting.  I've had some fun writing scenes involving them.

Some notes about this chapter: I have taken a few more ideas from Order of the Phoenix.  Amelia Bones is the head of the Wizengamot under Dumbledore, which is the impression I got from Phoenix, although I suppose some could argue that Fudge had taken it over.  Also in this chapter Professor McGonagall makes mention of an "Acceptable" mark on the O.W.L.s, which is straight from Phoenix, but at this point I have not planned to go into any detailed explanation of the possible marks.  They're the same as in the fifth book.

That being said, here is another chapter.  Please don't forget to review!

Chapter 15: The Confundus Charm

The news of Professor Trelawney's prophecy was all over the _Daily Prophet_ the next morning.  Everyone was reading the paper at breakfast, and the students who didn't subscribe were looking over other people's shoulders.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione crowded around their own copy, their breakfast forgotten.  Professor Trelawney figured prominently on the cover in a photograph that was at least ten years old.  Absent were her bug-eyed glasses, and her face was noticeably smoother, but she was still draped in bangles and gauzy shawls.  There were smaller photographs of Dumbledore and Fudge on the front page as well.  Dumbledore was solemn and dignified in his portrait, but Fudge was clearly angry.  His little figure was gesticulating wildly with one hand clenched into a fist, like a politician trying to whip a crowd into a frenzy.

In the article Dumbledore repeated the prophecy word for word and then went on to comment on its meaning.  _"Prophecies are vague by nature," the headmaster said.  "It is often the case that their true meanings are not understood until the predicted events occur.  Given what happened last summer, however, it is my belief that 'the enemy' is in fact [You-Know-Who]."_

_Dumbledore seemed reluctant to discuss the meaning of 'the one who is marked', but when pressed admitted that it is most likely Harry Potter, the boy who broke You-Know-Who's power when he was barely one year old.  As to 'those who stand with the one who is marked', Dumbledore offered no insight.  Neither did he comment on the nature of the 'sacrifice' or 'the most ancient of magics', saying that there was no clear answer to that particular part of the prophecy.  He did, however, have an opinion about one more phrase.  " 'Those who bring death'," said Dumbledore, "are most likely the Death Eaters, although I cannot be certain."_

_Minister Fudge has strongly stated that You-Know-Who is not a threat to the wizarding world.  "It is preposterous to say that this prophecy is referring to You-Know-Who," said the Minister.  "Even if this 'one who is marked' is Harry Potter, that does not make You-Know-Who his 'nemesis'.  Students always have other students that they don't get along with, and the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry is well known.  It is unfortunate that this young man is so completely delusional; at times I question the wisdom of allowing him to remain at Hogwarts at all."_

"WHAT?" exclaimed Harry.  Students everywhere turned from their breakfast to look at him, but for once he didn't care.  "Completely delusional?  Allow me to remain at school?  Where does he get off?"

"Shh!" said Hermione.  "You can bet that whatever you say about Fudge here will get back to him, and more attention from him is not what you need right now.  Not that you're not right, of course," she admitted.  Seething with indignation, Harry bit his tongue and turned back to the paper.

_The Ministry of Magic currently has no say in the admission or expulsion of students, but Minister Fudge has expressed a desire to bring the school under greater Ministry control._

_"It is the opinion of the Ministry that Albus Dumbledore, venerable as he may be, wields entirely too much power over Hogwarts School," said Fudge.  "We feel that it would be in the students' best interest to remove some of that power in order to ensure that they not only receive the best education but are treated fairly along the way."_

_Other members of the magical community, however, feel that Albus Dumbledore has proved an able headmaster and needs no Ministry assistance.  "Dumbledore is an excellent wizard and a fine man," said Amelia Bones, Second Witch of the Wizengamot.  "Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Order of Merlin, First Class – he does not hold these titles and accolades for nothing."_

_Rumor has it that Minister Fudge is upset over the recent hiring of Ardoc Bellaton and Celeste Thornby to the positions of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic, respectively, against his recommendation._

_"That is utter nonsense," said Fudge.  "In the hope of being useful I gave Dumbledore a list of names that I thought would be suitable.  Who he ultimately chose, of course, was his own decision entirely."_

Ron snorted.  "I'll bet," he said.

"Well, we all know that Fudge is jealous of Dumbledore," said Hermione softly.  "If he's really determined to interfere at Hogwarts, he'll be trouble."

Harry agreed with her completely.  Fudge was certainly bombastic beyond all reason, but it was too risky to simply write him off as a buffoon.

"He's slick," said Ron.  "Look here, Fudge says he's not upset about the new professors but he doesn't exactly endorse them either…"

"And he's holding to what he said last year," said Harry.  "Still doesn't want to believe that Voldemort's back.  I wonder what it'll take to bring him round."

Hermione shuddered.  "I don't like to think about it," she said, "but I don't think it could be anything short of catastrophic."

In Harry's opinion it wasn't a great way to start the second day of school.  The _Daily Prophet_ article kept Professor Trelawney's prophecy – and therefore Harry – at the forefront of conversation once again.  He did his best to pretend that he didn't notice the heads that turned to watch him as he passed through the hallways.

"No one seems to have come up with the idea that you two might be part of the prophecy too," said Harry quietly as they headed for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Maybe they never will," said Ron hopefully.

"Lucky for you if they don't," said Harry.  "Trust me, you don't want this kind of attention."

They entered the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and took their seats.  Harry was glad to see that the other incoming Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, with whom they were sharing the lesson, were more interested in discussing Professor Bellaton than him.

The bell chimed, and Bellaton promptly strode into the classroom, looking larger than life.  "Good morning, class!" he boomed cheerfully, receiving a smattering of "Good morning, Professor"s in return.

Bellaton reached the front of the class and turned to face them.  Parvati and Lavender were sitting in desks nearby; Harry could see them making calf-eyes at their teacher.

"Not a morning bunch, are you?" said Bellaton, shaking his head.  "Well, _I_ am, and I expect that after a few days of my class you will be too.  I am Professor Ardoc Bellaton, your new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher.  Wands out, if you please!"

A low, excited buzzing filled the classroom as students pulled their wands from their robes.

"You will find that nearly all your lessons for this class will be practical as I am a great believer in practical magic.  Professor Thornby has kindly agreed to work most of the theory into her classes, leaving us free to do actual spellwork.  Today we will work on something new, but we will also be reviewing some of the more basic spells that you have already covered.  You will need to master these basics in order to properly cast more complicated spells, so I suggest you pay attention and practice in your free time.  But, as I said, a new one today: the Confundus Charm.  Please stand up and tuck your things away; I am going to clear the room for practice."

They stood, and with a wave of his wand Professor Bellaton pushed their desks, chairs, and satchels against the two side walls.

"As you will no doubt recall from your History of Magic class, the Confundus Charm is very similar in nature to the Imperius Curse, but it is not as potent nor as sinister.  The Confundus Charm leaves the subject confused, and its most expert wielders can cause the charmed subject to 'forget' something specific.  The subject will then behave in a way that is contrary to what they would choose themselves.  I will not be teaching you this power of suggestion as it smacks too much of the Unforgivables.

"You are Miss Abbot, is that correct?" said Bellaton, drawing Hannah aside from the main group.

"Y-Yes," she said, looking nervously up at Bellaton who towered over her slight frame.

"Ah, one of the excellent Hufflepuffs," said Bellaton.  "Miss Abbot, you will be my example."  Hannah did not look thrilled at the prospect.  "But before I demonstrate let us practice the incantation and wand motion.  _Confundo!_  Be sure to pronounce it in exactly this way.  And as you do so, move your wand in a wide circle and then point…"

They practiced the incantation until Bellaton was satisfied, then divided off into partners.

"Now, watch me," said Bellaton.  He faced off against a now visibly trembling Hannah.  "_Confundo!"_

Hannah did not move, but her eyes glazed over and she began to look about as if unsure where she was.  As she started to walk haltingly forward, one hand raised to touch whatever she encountered, Bellaton lifted the spell.  "_Finite!_"  Hannah blinked again; her eyes refocused, and she shook her head.

"What happened?" she murmured.

"Confundus Charm," said Bellaton promptly.  "You're still feeling the effects slightly.  Have a seat for a moment, and then you can practice on your partner when it passes.  The rest of you form two lines and practice on each other, one at a time.  If you successfully cast the charm do not leave your partner under its influence for more than a few seconds only.  Begin!"

Harry had paired off with Neville.  "You first," Harry said.

Neville looked less than rock-steady as he stepped forward and raised his wand.  "_Confundo!"_ he shouted, putting the emphasis on the wrong syllable.  Nothing happened.

"I don't think you pronounced it quite right," said Harry, looking sideways at Ron, whose face had gone slack.  Hermione, it seemed, had gotten it right on the first try.

It took Neville several tries before he managed to cast the spell, but he wasn't pointing his wand at Harry when he did so.  The spell shot between Harry and Ron, who was trying to confuse Hermione, and hit the portrait of an aged witch behind them.  The witch stared as if she had been sucker-punched, then began to sing in a reedy voice: "Hail to the headmaster, headmaster, headmaster, hail to the headmaster, headmaster man!  He drinks and he cusses, he farts and he fusses!  Hail to the headmaster…"

All the students who weren't charmed began laughing.  Neville turned red, but Bellaton, who was laughing louder than anyone else, merely walked up and clapped him on the shoulder.  "_Finite!_" he commanded, and the witch stopped singing.  "Mr. Longbottom, did you do that on purpose?  The other portraits all say that old Henrietta Gumpton was a nasty gossip.  I suppose she deserves what she gets.  But I wonder which headmaster she was referring to...?"  Neville blushed again but didn't look quite so embarrassed, and he turned to face Harry with a newly determined expression.

The next thing Harry knew, the room had gone dim and fuzzy.  There were people standing all around him, people he couldn't see clearly.  What was going on?  Where on earth was he?  He thought vaguely that if he moved closer to some of the people, maybe he'd recognize them… maybe they'd tell him where he was…

"_Finite!_"  The word rang in his ears, and the grayness vanished so suddenly that he blinked in the light.  For a moment he stood there, still completely befuddled, until he saw Neville standing before him and everything became clear.

"Looks like you've got the hang of it, Neville," he said, shaking his head to clear out the remaining cobwebs.  Neville grinned proudly from across the room.  Next to him, Hermione's eyes suddenly glazed over, and Ron gave a triumphant shout.

"Now you're gonna get it," said Harry, grinning and leveling his wand.  "_Confundo!_"

Harry managed to charm Neville twice before Bellaton called a time-out.  "Very good!  Most of you seem to have gotten the hang of the Confundus Charm.  Now there is something that you should practice when you are _being_ charmed: I want you to try and throw it off.  Get it into your head to focus your mind and remember where you are when everything goes cloudy.  Concentrate _before_ your partner charms you and it will help.  Some of you will need more practice at this than others, but if you can manage it you will have a powerful weapon in your arsenal, for throwing off the Confundus Charm is much like resisting the Imperius Curse."

The other students looked sideways at Harry.  He knew they were thinking of the day when Barty Crouch, Jr. – disguised as Moody – had showed them what it was like to suffer the Imperius Curse.  They'd seen Harry resist it when no one else could.

Harry was tired of being gawked at like a sideshow.  It was with a strong feeling of irritation that Harry turned to face Neville again, and he was not prepared to resist the Confundus Charm that was fired his way.  When his head cleared again, Harry gave himself a shake and tried to focus.

Neville certainly had the hang of the charm now, but Harry was having trouble resisting it.  It was on his fourth try that something finally happened.  The world went cloudy and gray, and Harry was once again plunged into utter bewilderment.  Where was he now?  He didn't want to keep revisiting this strange place.  _Concentrate…_  Harry squinted into the fog.  Who was that standing in front of him?  _Concentrate…_  He could almost recognize that face… almost… _Neville Longbottom… Neville cast a spell on you…_

The confusion lifted like fog burning away under the sun.  "_Impedimentia!_" Harry cried, and Neville fell backwards onto the floor as if he had been pushed hard.

"Oh, well done, Mr. Potter!" said Bellaton.  "Why did you use the Impediment Jinx?"

"I don't know," said Harry honestly.  "I remembered what had happened and I just said the first thing that came to mind…  Sorry," he said to his partner.

Neville had stood up and was surreptitiously rubbing his backside.  "I'm fine," he said, grinning sheepishly.

"Excellent," said Bellaton.  "Here, you may need these."  Another wave of his wand produced colorful cushions that covered the walls and floor behind the students in Neville's line.  "Now that you've broken free once, Mr. Potter, try and make it happen faster, and increase the strength of your reaction.  And you, Mr. Longbottom, concentrate harder on your spell.  Try and keep Mr. Potter confused."

When the class finally ended, Harry was still the only one who had managed to throw off the charm entirely, but a few others students were showing signs of resistance, including Ron and Neville.  Professor Bellaton praised their work.  "Excellent job, all of you!" he said as they gathered up their books.  "Your homework is to practice both casting and resisting the Confundus Charm, and for next week write a short essay on the usefulness of this spell when under attack.  No more than six inches."

"You looked like you almost had it that last time," Harry said to Neville.  "Your eyes actually focused on me."

"I was almost there!" said Neville.  A look of wonder was on his round face.  "It slipped away at the last minute, but I was almost there!"

"I guess we shouldn't be surprised that you could do it," Hermione said to Harry.  "After all, you're the only one that got past the Imperius Curse last year."

All the mental fighting Harry had been doing that morning had taken its toll; from the looks of things, his fellow classmates were feeling just as tired as he was.  The Gryffindors staggered into Charms and into their seats under the curious eyes of the fifth year Ravenclaws.  Dean and Parvati put their heads down on their desks and promptly fell asleep.

"Good heavens!" squeaked tiny Professor Flitwick as Dean began to snore.  "What have you been practicing in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Fatiguing Hexes?"

"Confundus Charm," sighed Lavender.

"Well, then, wake each other up," said Flitwick.  "You are fifth years, after all; I trust you can think of a charm to do the job."

Hermione earned Gryffindor five points for her use of the Reviving Charm, but Neville's use of the Cheering Charm on Dean caused the latter to laugh hysterically until Professor Flitwick could repair the damage.

Professor Flitwick launched headlong into a speech much like Harry had heard the other teachers give about the importance of their O.W.L.s and the level of dedication that would be required of them this year and so on.  The fifth years were looking decidedly dejected by the time Flitwick finished, so he set them to work on a brief recap of the spells they had previously learned including the Summoning Charm and the Cheering Charm, which Neville had fouled up so badly.  Harry thought that he performed rather well; he had mastered the Summoning Charm last year in preparation for the First Task, and while some of the fifth years caused their partners to end up on the floor in tears, Harry managed to avoid taking the Cheering Charm to extremes.

Professor Flitwick piled a load of homework on the class before they were dismissed, and so did Professor Sinistra at the end of her Astronomy lecture.  Harry was feeling tired and cross by the time the Gryffindors trooped into Professor McGonagall's classroom for Transfiguration with the Slytherins.  Judging from his classmates' expressions, Harry could see that their feelings mirrored his own.

"Hey, Potter!  How does it feel to be a marked man?" sneered Malfoy from across the room.

It was the first time anyone had mentioned the prophecy since breakfast.  Harry turned and gave his archenemy a disdainful look.  "That's a pretty substandard insult even for you, Malfoy.  Did you spend all day coming up with it?"

The rest of the Gryffindors laughed, and Harry's spirits rose.  Malfoy bared his teeth but at the appearance of Professor McGonagall he smoothed his face to stillness.

If the other teachers were planning on working the fifth years hard that year, Professor McGonagall made it plain that she was going to be merciless.  "No matter what field you enter into, Transfiguration is one of the most useful, important skills that a witch or wizard can possess," she told them tartly.  "As such I expect to see nothing but the best efforts from all of you this year.  I shall be extremely disappointed if a single one of you does not achieve at least an Acceptable mark on their O.W.L."  Her gaze lingered particularly long on the Gryffindors, and Harry knew that she would be even harder on her own House than she was on the other students.

Just like the rest of the classes, Transfiguration was mostly spent in review that day.  It didn't go quite as well for Harry as the others had; he could turn a tomato into a big, red Quaffle but not into a teacup, and when he tried to Vanish the fruit it merely became transparent.

Professor McGonagall kept them working through the whole class, and by the time it was over Harry felt like a rag that had been wrung out and hung up to dry.  Even Malfoy was exhausted; when Harry and Ron passed by him, all he could muster was a halfhearted glare.

They walked up to Professor McGonagall's desk as the rest of the students left the classroom.  "Excuse me, Professor," said Harry.

"Yes?" she said, pausing in the act of straightening her papers.

"We were wondering if we could talk to you sometime about what it takes to become an Auror."

Professor McGonagall looked away from Harry's face and past his shoulder.  She waited until the last student had left before answering.  "Aurors," she said softly.  "Well, judging by your… adventures at Hogwarts over the years, I would say that this does sound like a natural move for you."   She pointed her wand and two chairs came sliding up to face her desk.  "Sit," she said.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Ron left the Transfiguration classroom with a new sense of purpose.  Professor McGonagall had been very helpful.  While she was obviously pleased with their ambition, she was unapologetic about the work they would have to do to get there.

"Required O.W.L.s in Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts…" said Ron as they headed down to the Great Hall.  "I'm glad I found this out before it was too late."

"Right," said Harry.  "We're going to have to act a lot more like Hermione if we want this to happen."

"Especially when it comes to Potions," said Ron.  "If there's anyone standing in our way it's Snape."

"I don't think McGonagall will let him get away with any dirty tricks this time," said Harry.  "She really wants us to make it, did you see her face?"

"Yeah.  She's kind of scary when she's sizing you up," said Ron.  "But at least _she_ thinks we can do it.  Fred and George wouldn't think I had a snowball's chance in hell of becoming an Auror."

"Don't tell them, then," said Harry.  "After they see your O.W.L.s they won't have anything to say about it."

They entered the Great Hall and sat down next to Hermione, who had saved them seats at the table.  All the fifth years were eating their supper as if it were their last meal.  Ron moaned as he sank his teeth into a roasted chicken leg.  Nearby, Dean was drinking so deeply from his goblet of pumpkin juice that it was running down his chin.  Even Hermione was digging into her mashed potatoes with something less than her usual neatness.

"Hullo, fifth years!" said a voice behind Harry and Ron.  They turned to see Fred and George standing there holding a large pie and a huge dish of vanilla ice cream.

"Blackberry," said Fred, gesturing with the pie.  "Thought you could use an extra special treat after today."

"Yes," said George.  "Welcome to your fifth year."

"Heeeey!" said Ron as they set the offerings down on the table.  "Where did you get this?"

"From everyone's favorite house-elf, Dobby," said Fred.  "He's more than happy to do anything at all to help Harry Potter."  Fred winked at Harry.

"And to think I had you both pegged as nothing more than insufferable older brothers," said Ron.

"Pray don't stop just because we've brought you dessert," said George.  "We fully intend to continue making your life unbearable.  It's just so much fun, you see."

"Hold on there, that one's mine," said Ron.  The pie was rapidly disappearing.

"Well, we did come to deliver this token of our understanding of the hell that fifth year is," said Fred.

"But there's something else: Quidditch meeting tomorrow night, Harry.  Seven o' clock," said George.  "We're going to discuss tryouts and elect a new team captain."  Ron's ears twitched visibly.  "Don't worry, Ickle Ronniekins, we'll tell you when the tryouts are," George continued, ruffling his brother's hair.

Ron turned bright red and squirmed out from underneath George's hand.  "Geroff, you maniac!"

"You're trying out for the team, Ron?" said Seamus.

"Yeah," said Ron uncertainly, flushing even redder.  "Keeper, now that Wood's gone.  You?"

"Nah," said Seamus, "I'd go for Chaser if there was a spot open.  Maybe next year."

"Well, we're behind you one hundred percent, Ron," said Dean.

"As long as you've got the skills," added Seamus.  "Wood's going to be a tough act to follow."

"He'll have the skills," said Fred proudly.  "He's a Weasley!"

Ron's face was as red as his hair.  Harry knew he wasn't used to praise from the twins.

The Gryffindors laughed and joked through the rest of the hour, and it was only when dinner was finally over that Harry realized that not one of them had mentioned the prophecy all day.  He headed off to the library with the rest of the fifth years, full of warm blackberry pie, fervently hoping that this was the start of a permanent trend.


	16. The Quidditch Tryout

**A/N:** At last, another chapter.  Sorry it's been so long; I had a bit of trouble getting through this one, and I haven't been working on the "near" part of the story nearly as much of late.  Instead, I've been spending some time on chapters that occur a few months ahead in the story timeline.  But now the muse seems to be back and chapter 17 is coming along.  Would you believe that the whole story (so far), current and future chapters, totals 83 pages of typing in 10-point font, single-spaced?  It's really a lot.

A correction has been made to the previous chapter (it has been edited and re-uploaded).  In my reviews, Kyntor was kind enough to point out that Voldemort used the Imperius Curse on Harry in the graveyard in book 4, which he resisted successfully, so he would have no lingering doubts about his ability to do so.  I completely forgot that this happened.  Whenever I'm not sure about a detail I look through the books to find the answer, but if you don't remember it at all you'll never know when you make an error.  If you notice any glaring mistakes in my work, please do let me know.  I want my story to be accurate.  Thanks for the heads-up, Kyntor!

And on that note, thanks again, everyone, for your reviews.  It's good to know that I've entertained a few people for a while.  Enjoy!

Chapter 16: The Quidditch Tryout

The next night, just before seven, Harry met up with Angelina, Alicia, Fred, George, and Katie in the Gryffindor common room.  They had no chance for privacy there, so Angelina suggested they head for the Transfiguration classroom.

When they reached their destination, they found Professor McGonagall setting down a crate of hedgehogs in the corner.  Harry remembered having to Transfigure the creatures into pincushions last year.  She turned and spotted them.

"Ah, the Gryffindor Quidditch team!" she said.  "I suppose you're looking for a place to hold a meeting."

"Yes," said Angelina.

"You may stay here," said Professor McGonagall, "I am nearly through.  You'll be discussing Wood's replacement, then?"

"And electing a new captain," said George.

"As long as it's not you," said Professor McGonagall wryly.  "Or you!" she exclaimed, fixing Fred under her stare.  "Your sole ambition seems to be to wreak havoc wherever you go."

"Well, yes, in a manner of speaking," said Fred.  "That and win the Quidditch Cup again this year, of course."

"Never fear, Professor," said George, grinning impishly.  "We'll elect someone who's a little more responsible."

"See that you do," said Professor McGonagall, but she smiled slightly as she said it.  "I'd hate to have to turn the Cup over to someone else.  I've gotten rather used to victory.  Well, a good evening to you all," she said, and left the room.

"So," said Angelina, "with Fred and George out that leaves four of us."

"It was always just the four of you," said Fred, rolling his eyes.  "We never wanted the job."

"Any nominations?" said Angelina.

"I nominate Angelina," said Alicia.  "You seem to be taking over well enough already."

"I'll second that," said George, smirking.  Angelina punched him in the shoulder.

Katie, Harry, and Fred all voiced their agreement, and an obviously pleased Angelina accepted the post of team captain.  "Right, then," she said briskly, "on to other business."

They agreed to hold tryouts on the coming weekend.  "We're going to start training as early as possible," said Angelina.  "Oliver was a fantastic Keeper and I don't think we'll be able to find any Gryffindor who can play as well as he could."

"You know what we should have done," said George, "is train a replacement for Oliver before he left."

"George, that's the most intelligent thing I've ever heard you say," said Alicia.  "And speaking of replacements, next year four of us will be gone - two chasers and both beaters."

"Ugh, I'm growing wise in my old age," said George.  "Ah, to be young and stupid again!"

"Let's stick to the subject," said Angelina.  "You both have a point.  We should have an entire reserve team: three Chasers, two Beaters, a Keeper and a Seeker.  That means we need to select eight new players at tryouts."

"Sounds like a long day," said Katie.

"Plus," Angelina continued, "we're all a bit rusty from not having played last year.  There's no denying that we were the best team in the school two years ago, a real powerhouse, but we've got lots to do.  I'll try and book the pitch for nine on Saturday-"

"Oi, does it really have to be so early?" said Fred.

"-and the six of us will practice before that.  At seven."

Fred and George groaned loudly.  "Angelina, you're as bad as Wood!" said George.

"I plan to be worse," she said firmly.

"You've got N.E.W.T.s this year too, are you planning to sleep at all?" said Fred.

"You wanted someone responsible for team captain, you've got it," said Angelina.

By the next day, all the Gryffindors knew of the upcoming tryouts.  Angelina had posted notices all over the common room, and everyone was buzzing at the news that every position was up for grabs on the reserve team.  It seemed like half the house intended to try out; there was a chance for glory in every one of those positions.  Harry had the feeling that he was going to be on the Quidditch pitch all day Saturday.

The rest of the week seemed to fly by.  The fifth years were inundated with homework, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent every night in the library until Madam Pince shooed them out at nine.  After this they were forced to return to the common room, but it was much harder to work there as everyone who wasn't in either fifth or seventh year was more interested in discussing the upcoming tryouts than anything else.

Even with all the homework they had to do, Ron convinced Harry to spend some time helping him prepare for the tryouts.  "If I don't get some air time in before Saturday I'll be awful," he said.

The field was booked by the other three house teams for every evening that week, so Harry and Ron had to play at sundown when it was free.  Three nights in a row they interrupted their work in the library to practice on the pitch.  Ron hovered in front of the three goalposts while Harry swooped around with the Quaffle, trying to score.  Harry didn't think that Ron was half bad; he wasn't nearly as good as Wood, but that was to be expected.  Ron did seem to improve a bit with each practice, and Harry had to allow that if it got Ron a spot on the team, the practices had been time well spent.

Saturday morning was clear and cool with a bite of autumn in the air.  Harry rose before anyone else in his dormitory, dressed for play, and headed down to the Great Hall for a quick breakfast.  The rest of the team was there as well, chewing resolutely on their eggs and toast.  George, who was half-asleep over his bowl of porridge, mumbled grumpily when it was time to go and refused to open his eyes.  Alicia took out her wand, muttered "_Wingardium Leviosa!_", and George's porridge flew up out of his bowl and into his face.  Whatever didn't stick fell right back into the bowl with a _schloop._  They all got a good laugh out of it, even George, who declared Alicia's fine prank equal to a Weasley original.

Harry walked out onto the field feeling better than he'd felt since the feast.  The prophecy had finally become old news, he'd just seen George get a faceful of porridge, and best of all, it was time to play Quidditch.

Angelina set Harry to playing Keeper for the practice.  "It's better for the rest of us to have a body in front of the hoops than to just let you catch that Snitch over and over," she said.  Harry grinned at the buried compliment and soared up to float in front of the goals.  He wasn't completely clueless, but Katie, Angelina, and Alicia scored with ease.  They swooped around him, passing the Quaffle back and forth so fast that it was nothing but a red blur.  By nine o'clock, Harry's head was spinning, and he was actually glad to land on the pitch again.

"Well, we know who the new Keeper _isn't_ going to be," said Katie playfully, thumping Harry on the shoulder.  "But you weren't so dreadful, really."

A large group of Gryffindors had gathered on the side of the field nearest to the castle.  Angelina began sorting them out into groups by position.  The group trying out for Keeper was the largest, but there were a fair number of Chaser and Beater hopefuls as well.  The Seeker group was the smallest with only three, but Harry wasn't surprised.  As the youngest member of the team, he still had three years to go before graduation, and whoever was picked as the reserve Seeker probably wouldn't get a chance to play until then.  It was a long time to wait.

Gryffindors were not the only students who had gathered; to everyone's chagrin, several Slytherins had seated themselves in the stands, Draco Malfoy included.

"What a pathetic bunch of duffers!" Malfoy called.  "Oh, look, there's _two_ Weasleys trying out, now we know they're desperate!"  His companions all laughed uproariously.

Ginny tossed her red head while her brothers looked daggers at the Slytherins.

"Awww, look at the weeny little Seekers!" said Malfoy in falsetto.  "Watch out, Potty, those three are so small, they'll be blown to France by my wake."

Dennis Creevey, Maribel Madison, and Cecil Bonesteel were all second-years and admittedly lightweight.  Harry had long since gotten used to such nonsense, but their faces crumpled at Malfoy's barbs.

"I don't think a four-year loser like you has any room to boast, Malfoy," called Harry.

"Ooooooo!" said several of the Gryffindors, and the second-years brightened a bit.

Malfoy opened his mouth to retort but was forestalled by Angelina.  "Get out of here and take your acolytes with you," she said.  "This is a closed practice."

"Since when?" sneered Malfoy.

"Since Professor McGonagall told you three days ago," Angelina snapped.   "Of course, she didn't have to bother talking to Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, we knew they'd have the grace not to spy on us."

The Slytherins' faces darkened.  "Don't you compare us with those Hufflepuff idiots," said Malfoy.

"One Hufflepuff has got twice as much sportsmanship as any Slytherin," said Angelina.  "Now clear off before I hex you back to the Stone Age!"

The Slytherins took their time about it, throwing a few more choice insults onto the field while they went.  Harry's second-years were still looking rather unhappy.  "You're going to have to get used to that if you make the reserve team," he said.  "The Slytherins have got some skill, but we've got more, and you only hurt yourself if you let them get to you."  It seemed to help; their faces changed from uncertain to determined.

The tryouts for Keeper were already beginning with a nervous-looking third year at the hoops.  "All right, Maribel, you'll go first," said Harry.  "I'm going to release the Snitch, and all I want you to do is catch it as fast as you can.  The Snitch changes direction a lot, so follow it closely and show me what moves you've got."  He pulled the fluttering golden ball out of his pocket and let it dart from his hand.  When it had vanished from view, Maribel took off, a grim expression on her face.

Harry didn't have much of a chance to watch the other tryouts.  While Angelina, Alicia, and Katie fired Quaffles at prospective Keepers, he watched as each Seeker chased after the Snitch, weaving in and out of the other fliers.  When Harry heard Ron's name called, it required all his self-control to keep his eye on Cecil Bonesteel and not the goalposts.

By the time all three of Harry's students had caught the Snitch, the Keeper tryouts were over and the others were nearly finished.  Harry settled back to watch the remaining students.  The only person to try out whom he knew well was Ginny, and she was going for Chaser.  She was good – more so than the few others that he saw, proving able to stay in tight formation while avoiding the bludgers that one twin and a Beater trainee sent her way.

It was early afternoon when the last student finished their tryout.  Angelina wearily promised the remaining watchers that they would have the team's decision the next morning, and everyone trooped back to the castle.  Professor McGonagall met them just inside the entrance and directed them to the Great Hall where she had retained some lunch for them.  Harry and the rest of the team claimed a few serving dishes and moved down to the far end of the Gryffindor table, away from the other students.

They discussed the reserve Seeker first, as only three people had tried out.  Harry had already made his selection.  "Dennis Creevey," he said.  "None of them were very polished, but he's got the most promise.  He found the Snitch first and had the fastest reflexes.  If you put him up against Malfoy right now he'd lose, but with some more practice I think he could be really good."

With that settled, Harry had nothing else to do but listen to the others debate their choices for Chasers, Beaters, and Keeper.  Ginny Weasley was picked as a Chaser right away.  Seamus Finnigan also made the cut, and a fourth-year named Judy Fairbanks rounded out the group.  Two brothers, sixth-year Barron Fidemont and his third-year brother Leonard, were chosen as the reserve Beaters.

The position of Keeper was the most hotly debated of all.  After several minutes of haggling over pros and cons, Fred, George, and the girls agreed that Ron would be the new Keeper, and Paul Kirkland, a very quick second-year, would be his backup.  Harry was thrilled; since he'd been unable to watch, he had no idea that Ron had performed so well.

"He's not Oliver," said Angelina, "but he's not half bad, and he has an edge on the rest of the students."

"That would be from years of playing Weasley Quidditch at home," said Fred.  "Ron always played Keeper."

"I didn't know that," said Harry.

"Well, it wasn't exactly his choice," said George.  "He is the youngest of us boys, after all, and Ginny always got the position she wanted because she's the only girl… in the end, he was always stuck with Keeper."

"He seems to have come to enjoy it," said Angelina.  "A little rigorous practice and he'll be all polished up."

All that day, pleas from team hopefuls for hints of the lineup fell on deaf ears.  Harry found himself cornered more than once by a student, but he turned them all away.  Even Ginny tried to bribe him with a large bar of Honeydukes' chocolate.

To Harry's relief, Ron never pestered him about the team's decision; in fact, he was much quieter than usual.  Ron seemed to be all right at lunch, but as the day progressed he was clearly sinking into self-doubt.  By the time evening rolled around he had himself convinced that his tryout had been the worst of the bunch.

"I really don't think I've got a chance," said Ron for what must have been the fifth time that day.  "That Paul Kirkland was pretty good, he made some nice saves, the Chasers had a hard time faking him out…"  Harry was getting tired of hearing this litany.  He was at a loss to understand Ron's defeatism until a concerned Hermione pulled him aside.

"Harry, I know you're not supposed to tell anyone what you decided today, but is there anything you can do to help Ron prepare?  You know, a tiny little hint, or something?"

"Sorry, but I can't," Harry said.  "He's just going to have to wait like everyone else."

Hermione sighed.  "I know wishing doesn't make any difference now, but… I really hope he at least makes the reserve team.  If he doesn't he's going to be completely unbearable."

Harry shook his head.  "The only way he makes the team is if we thought he was the best Keeper, and that's it."

"Yes!" said Hermione urgently.  "That's exactly it!  He needs this, he really does.  He lives in everyone's shadow – yours, his brothers'…"

"Don't leave yourself out," said Harry.  "You're always top of the class."

"Well, maybe a little," she said, blushing and looking at her feet.  "But you know what I mean, he needs a moment in the sun.  After all this time he doesn't even think it's possible."

Hermione looked so unhappy that Harry longed to put her mind at ease, but somehow he held his tongue.  "He'll know first thing in the morning," he said.  "We'll just have to take it from there."

Harry awoke very early the next day to the sound of Seamus scrambling out of the dormitory.  He rose, pulled on his dressing gown, and followed Seamus out, trying not to wake Ron, Dean, and Neville.

No sooner had Harry slipped into the stairwell than a loud whoop sounded from the common room.  He hurried down the steps and saw Seamus dancing around in front of the bulletin board.

"Yes!" cried Seamus, pumping his fist in the air.  "I made it, I made it!"

"Congratulations, Seamus!" said Harry, his face breaking out into a huge grin.  A split second later someone slammed right into Harry's back, reminding him that he was blocking the stairs.  He moved out of the way as students began piling into the common room, all of them in their pajamas.  They crowded around the bulletin board, scanning the list.  Harry saw the rest of the team stumbling in, rubbing their eyes.

Fred yawned dramatically.  "What's all the fuss about?  …Oh, right."

Harry was impressed by the way both the winners and the losers handled themselves.  Most of the hopefuls were disappointed, of course, but they accepted without a quibble and congratulated the new team members.  The victors, pink and pleased, accepted with grace.

Hermione and Ginny made their way over to Harry.  "Oh, Harry, I'm so excited!" cried Ginny, throwing her arms around his neck.  Harry was surprised to feel his face immediately start burning.  It was the sort of reaction he'd expect if Cho ran up and hugged him, but this was just Ginny, his friend!  She let go, her brown eyes sparkling up at him.  Harry fervently hoped that his face wasn't as red as it felt.

"What about us?" said George indignantly.  "How come Handsome Harry gets all the attention?"

Harry's cheeks grew even warmer, and Ginny blushed furiously.  She hugged each of her brothers in turn.

"Where's Ron?" said Hermione.

"Asleep," Harry said quickly, eager to change the subject.

"What?" exclaimed Fred.  "The entire House is up, and he doesn't want to see if he made the cut?"

"He's got himself convinced that he didn't," said Harry.

"Stupid git," said George.  "C'mon, Fred, we're getting our brother out of bed."

They stomped up the staircase as loudly as possible and appeared moments later with Ron between them.  They frog-marched him toward the bulletin board.

"No, really," moaned Ron, "I don't want to see, let me go back to bed…"

"CONGRATULATIONS, RON!" shouted Harry, Hermione, and Ginny.

Ron's jaw dropped.  "Wha…?"  He looked at the parchment, at the twins, and back at the parchment again.  "I… I _made the team_?"

"That's our Ickle Ronniekins!" said Fred, thumping Ron on the back.  Ron was in such a state of shock that he didn't protest the nickname.  His look of disbelief was slowly replaced by complete joy, and soon he was shaking hands with the entire House.

Harry and Hermione stood to one side while the Weasley siblings hugged and cheered, savoring the moment.  "I'm so happy for him," she said with a very contented smile on her face.

"He earned it," Harry replied.

"Every Weasley sibling has made the Gryffindor Quidditch team!" said George.  "Well, except for Percy, the puffed-up dunderhead."

"George," said Ginny in a disapproving voice, "you know you only make matters worse when you say things like that…"

"But that's what he is, Gin, a dunderhead.  He just hasn't learned to laugh at himself for it."

"Ginny, don't you go turning into mum!" said Fred.  "The world's only got room for one of her."

Ron was buoyant all day long.  Even a long study session in the library with Potions as the subject couldn't dampen his spirits.  He responded cheerfully to Hermione's quizzing him on the essential ingredients of the Forgetfulness Potion.  Snape had announced that they would be making it from memory in their next class.

"Well done!" said Hermione when Ron failed to miss a single component.  "If you can remember the procedure, too, then you won't have any problems on Tuesday."

"Don't look so surprised," said Ron smugly.  "I told you, I'm going to make it to Auror training."

Harry privately thought that Ron was making a good start.  He had never really knuckled down to his schoolwork before, but ever since their talk with Professor McGonagall, Ron had been making an extraordinary effort.  Extraordinary for him, anyway.  Harry only hoped that Ron would be able to stay the course.  

The Gryffindors were in a celebratory mood that day, even the students who hadn't made the team.  Fred and George snuck down to both the kitchens and to Hogsmeade, and that evening the Gryffindors feasted on honeycakes and butterbeer.  The common room was packed with students laughing, talking, and playing games.  Harry, Ron, Neville, Seamus, and Dean were deeply involved in a round of Exploding Snap when Angelina interrupted them.

"Hey, everyone!" she shouted, standing up on a chair.  The noise dropped to a low buzz.  "I'd just like to take a moment to say congratulations to the new Gryffindor Reserve Quidditch Team" – applause and cheering – "and to our new Keeper, Ron Weasley!"  More applause and cheers.  Ron's ears were scarlet, but there was a big grin on his face.  Angelina continued.  "And to all of you who didn't make it, a job well done.  You've all been great sports."

"Hear, hear!" cried several students, raising their butterbeers.

The noise level rose dramatically again, but Harry could still hear Fred as he shouted over to Ron.  "You know, we _are_ expecting you to be at least as good as Wood," he said with a wink.

Ron's grin slipped.  Hermione glared at Fred, but he had already turned away.

As Harry watched Ron's face he felt his insides grow cold.  That was exactly what Ron hadn't needed to hear.

Harry was shocked when Ron suddenly laughed.  "There's no one in this school as good as Oliver was," he said lightly.  "If that's what they're expecting, well, it's their own dumb fault.  Come on, Dean, it's your turn."

Harry and Hermione exchanged smiles of delight.  Ron had never been able to rise above the twins' needling before.  As Harry's cards suddenly exploded in his face, he was thinking that this new Ron might make it into Auror training after all.


	17. A Rare Talent

**A/N: **I don't get the impression that anyone's hanging on the edge of their seat waiting for this, but here's another chapter!  Only got one review last chapter, but it was a really nice one.  Thanks for the encouragement, Flybird!  And no, I didn't mean for the Exploding Snap cards to symbolize anything, though that would have been pretty cool.

Hope you all enjoyed the last chapter.  Ron's Keeper – good for him!  I think we all saw that coming a mile away (in Phoenix), but I never thought he'd have such a hard time.  I'm not planning on making him suffer quite so much.  There are times when I think I should have made this a sixth year story, but I really wanted Sirius in it, so I left it as it was when I began a whole year before Phoenix came out.  Still, it's hard to handle issues that have to be dealt with (like Hagrid's 'How I Spent My Summer Vacation', which appears in this chapter) when J.K. Rowling's already done it.  So I do the best I can.

Enough rambling.  I hope you enjoy the chapter.  Please don't forget to review – I really depend on it.

Chapter 17: A Rare Talent

To Harry, it seemed that the days were passing a little too quickly.  His classmates must have felt the same way because by the time Halloween approached, all of the fifth years were showing the strain.  They were constantly buried under a mountain of homework, and their teachers never seemed to think that they were progressing enough.  The new professors were no easier on them than anyone else.  A few students had begun to complain that while Professor Thornby was a much better teacher than Professor Binns, she also expected a good deal more from them.

Harry and Ron's efforts had begun to show in their grades.  Professor McGonagall marveled in front of the entire class when Ron managed to turn a whole set of encyclopedia volumes into a row of handsome rosebushes.  Snape was so suspicious of Harry and Ron's continued high marks in Potions that he separated them from Hermione.  Now Harry worked next to Neville, Ron worked with Dean, and Hermione worked with Lavender.  Harry and Ron both thought that Snape was disappointed when their grades didn't drop.  He stalked the halls with such an ugly expression on his face that the first years would run the other way whenever he came in sight.

On top of all their classwork, Harry and Ron also had Quidditch practice.  Angelina was true to her word, rousting them from their beds at ungodly Saturday morning hours.  They quickly learned not to complain, as she would extend the practice by half an hour each time they did.  A six-hour session one Saturday was enough to silence even Fred and George.  Gryffindor's first game of the season was against Ravenclaw and just after Halloween.  As the match drew closer Angelina developed the manic glint in her eye that Oliver had so often had.

Most of the practice time was spent focused on Ron.  Even when he wasn't busy learning new moves, the entire team was learning how to function as a unit.  The Chasers and Beaters had to work closely with the Keeper, and Ron was trying very hard to get used to the others' moves.  The Seeker had little to do with the Keeper, so Harry spent the bulk of his time following the Snitch around and practicing his dives.

"Hey, Harry!" called George after he pulled off a particularly spectacular fall.  "A few more like that and you'll be ready for the Wronski Feint!"

The twins weren't as kind to Ron as they were to Harry but Ron continued to brush them off.  It was when he finally started coming back with a few barbs of his own that Fred and George started leaving him alone.  During one especially long practice, Fred was teasing Ron for allowing Alicia to score three times in a row.  "Maybe we should use a beach ball instead of a Quaffle," he chortled.  "That way Ron might catch at least some of them."

"If I were you, I'd stop watching me and focus on your swing," called Ron from his position at the goalposts.  "Your forehand looks like a rusty gate."

The Chasers, Harry, and George all hooted with laughter.  "We're going to have to watch it, Fred," said George.  "I think Ron's starting to give as good as he gets."

After a few more exchanges like that, the twins' teasing became much less frequent.  "It's bizarre, really," Ron said to Harry as they left the field one day.  "It's almost like they've decided I'm finally a man or something.  To think that all this time, all I had to do was jibe them back!"

"How come they never tease Ginny like they do you?" asked Harry.

"Fred and George make fun of two people in our family: Percy and me," said Ron.  "Me because I'm the younger brother, and Percy because he's just asking for it, the fussy git.  Ginny's different, though.  It's friendly, little-sister teasing with her."

Harry squinted up at the sun.  "Come on, we'd better get back.  Tomorrow's Halloween and I'd rather not have to spend it doing classwork."

Harry and Ron found Hermione in the library with her nose in a dusty old tome.  They followed her example and spent the rest of the afternoon buried in books, but the work paid off – by dinnertime they had finished quite a bit of their weekend work.

"And that's the last!" Ron said triumphantly as he wrote the last line of his Potions essay.  He put down his quill and leaned back in his chair with a sigh.  "I can't believe we finished all of Astronomy, Transfiguration _and_ Potions."

"See what happens when you apply yourself?" said Hermione, rather smugly.  Ron scowled at her, but she ignored him.  "Since we're going to be done by tomorrow, why don't we go see Hagrid?  We haven't been down to his hut in ages."

"Yeah," said Ron.  "Maybe he'll tell us about what he did last summer."

It was true; they'd been so busy with classwork that they had not visited Hagrid in a long while, and they were dying to know if his mission had been successful, but there was no way to ask him in the middle of a Care of Magical Creatures class.  So after breakfast the next morning, they set off for Hagrid's cabin, wrapped warmly in their cloaks to ward off the chill.  It had frosted during the night, and the stiff grass crunched under their feet.

They found Hagrid behind his cabin wrestling with some enormous pumpkins.  Fang barked joyfully and bounded toward them.  Hagrid looked up from his work, and his face lit up with a smile.  "Hullo, you three!  Haven't seen yeh down here in a while."

"Sorry about that, Hagrid," said Harry.  "We've had more schoolwork to do this year than ever."

"'S all righ," said Hagrid, still smiling beneath his wild tangle of a beard.  "I 'spected as much.  Bin working hard then, have yeh?  'S what yeh should be doin'.  Got ter do well on yer O.W.L.s."

"And how," said Ron.  "I never knew you had to be such a top student to join the Auror corps.  Harry and me are both going to try."

"Aurors!" exclaimed Hagrid.  "Well good fer you, lads!  Takes a lot 'o hard work, but it's a noble ambition.  An' what have you decided ter be, Hermione?"

"I don't know," she said lightly.  "I might need to think about it for the rest of the year, but of course I hope to get O's in everything."

"Manage that, and yeh really could be anything yeh wanted," said Hagrid.  "Well, if anyone can get an O in ev'ry subject, it's our Hermione."  She beamed back at him.

"Well, since I haven't really had the chance ter talk to yeh yet," Hagrid said, dropping his voice, "I heard what happened to yeh, Harry, as soon as I got back.  Close shave, was it?"

"Yeah," said Harry.  "I was lucky."

"Lucky ter have good people watching out for yeh," said Hagrid.  "Course it goes without sayin' that I'm glad yeh pulled through."

"When _did_ you get back, Hagrid?" said Hermione.

Hagrid raised one bushy eyebrow.  "So yeh want ter know what I did this summer, do yeh?  I'm not really s'posed ter talk about it, but knowin' you three… it might be better if I just tell yeh right now.  Yeh'd just put yerselves in danger tryin' ter find out."

Hermione blushed, but Ron said, "_Now_ you're starting to come around!"

Hagrid scowled at him.  "Don' go repeatin' any of this, now!  I'm serious, yeh can't go discussin' it after we're done here today.  Don' know who yeh can trust anymore."

"We promise, Hagrid," said Harry.  "We're keeping some other secrets already, and we haven't broken our word."

Ron and Hermione voiced their agreement, and Hagrid seemed satisfied, but he herded them into his cabin before he would relate his story.  Once they had all settled in with mugs of hot, strong tea, he finally seemed ready to talk.  "All righ', then.  Yeh prob'ly already know that Olympe and I went ter see the giants."  They all nodded.  "It didn' start off well.  When we found 'em there they were fightin' amongst themselves, and yeh never get between fightin' giants.  We had ter hide out for a couple 'o days until all the fuss died down, an' once it did… 'bout half the giants had gone.  Turns out they'd been fightin' over whether or not ter listen ter the emissaries that Voldemort had already sent."

"Oh, no!" said Hermione.  "He got to them first?"

"Yeah," sighed Hagrid.  "Not long before us, seems like.  We saw 'em, down in the giants' village.  I knew one of 'em."  Hagrid's face darkened.  "I'll never forget that monster's face.  Macnair.  The headsman that came fer Buckbeak, yeh remember?"

"He's still employed at the Ministry!" said Ron.  "Dad was talking about him this summer.  Harry named him a Death Eater after the Tournament."

"That man likes killin'," said Hagrid.  "I'll bet anythin' he encouraged the giants ter fight.  Olympe an' I, we stayed hidden an' listened.  The giants that left remembered what happened the last time they got mixed up with… with Voldemort."  He shuddered.  "Ugh, no matter what Dumbledore says, I still don' like sayin' the name!"

"He'd be proud of you, Hagrid," said Harry.

"I should hope so," said the half-giant.  "Takes all the guts I have just ter get it out.  Anyway, the ones that stayed were int'rested in the power that the Death Eaters were promisin', so we only stayed long enough ter learn as much as we could.  We did hear that the other two Death Eaters were Fergus an' Ludmilla Blake."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione gasped in unison.  "What, do yeh know 'em?" said Hagrid.

"They're the ones who gave the Dursleys the Dragonthistle Potion!" said Harry.

"Hmmm," Hagrid said gruffly.  "I s'pose it's just as well that I didn' know that when I saw 'em, or I might've attacked.  Except fer that, I don' think yeh would've heard of 'em.  Reclusive husband an' wife, ran a shop in Knockturn Alley.  After V… V…  bah!  After VOLDEMORT disappeared fifteen years ago, they were suspected o' collusion with the other Death Eaters, but no one ever brought any charges.  Seems there wasn't enough evidence against 'em."

"What did they sell at their shop?" asked Ron.

"Potions," said Hagrid, with a significant look at Harry.  "Their specialty was poisons, if my memory's correct.  They've been credited with inventin' some nasty curses, too: the Gut Squeeze, the Limb Lopper, the Bloodletter…"

The students recoiled in disgust.  "Oh, don't say any more!" cried Hermione, her eyes wide.

"Saw a victim o' the Bloodletter once," said Hagrid in a distant voice.  "Horrible.  Just horrible."  He gave his shaggy head a shake.  "Enough o' that.  Where was I?  Oh, yes…  Well, they didn' make any detailed plans, so after a while we had ter give up listenin' an' move on.  Had ter find the other giants, yeh see, the ones that didn' want ter go back ter _him._  We found 'em 'bout twenty miles away.  Dunno if that's really far enough between the two, but there's nothin' we can do 'bout that.  Anyway, at firs' they thought we were more Death Eaters, but after a few days we convinced 'em ter listen.  We stood there in the middle o' the camp, an' the whole time we talked there was a giant standin' over us with a club, ready ter bring it smashin' down if they didn' like what we had ter say."

"Way to look death in the face, Hagrid," said Ron.

"Well, it wasn' any fun, I can tell yeh that," said Hagrid.  "But it was too important, so we agreed to their terms.  Anyway, yeh can see I'm here in one piece, so yeh know we didn' get clobbered.  We gave 'em gifts from Dumbledore an' gave 'em his message, about an alliance an' protection fer what was left of the giants.  They seemed ter like it, but they wouldn' commit.  Said they'd think about it, but we did leave with a message o' goodwill fer Dumbledore.  It was more'n Dumbledore expected, I can tell yeh that.  He was pleased with what we did."

"Do you think they'll choose sides, or will they just sit on their hands?" asked Harry.

"I think in the end they'll come 'round," said Hagrid.  "If they don' get into another fight with the other giants, that is."

"I'll bet it was nice to spend some time with Madam Maxime," said Hermione, a coy little smile on her face.

Hagrid eyed her suspiciously.  "Now that's really none of yer business, Hermione," he said.  "But yer right – it was nice.  Never met someone else like me before.  Very polite, Olympe," he said, his eyes going misty again.  "An' so elegant.  She's prob'ly half the reason we succeeded, seein' as she's so diplomatic an' all."  He stared off into space with his eyes full of stars.  Harry and his friends grinned at each other.

Hagrid blinked and shook his head.  "Don' let me go driftin' off like that!" he admonished them.  "I don' get ter see yeh often enough ter allow it."

"Nice pumpkins you've got out back, by the way," said Ron.  "What do you feed them to make them so big?"

"Gordon Greenthumb's Growth Tonic mixed with Ogden's Old Firewhiskey," said Hagrid.  "I get the tonic from Professor Sprout.  An' if that don' work – well, I can help 'em along a bit by myself."  He gave his pink umbrella a pat and winked.  "Got summat planned for the Halloween Feast tonight.  I'm not sayin' what!" he exclaimed as Ron opened his mouth.  "You'll have to find out with ev'ryone else."

As it turned out, Hagrid's surprise was a jack-o-lantern carving contest.  Each House was given one massive pumpkin and one hour to carve it, and no magic was allowed.  The gourds were so large that students had to climb on top to make a lid while the more artistic Gryffindors cut out a face with bread knives.  Finally Dennis Creevey and Maribel Madison, the smallest students in the House, were wrapped in plastic and dropped inside to clean out the goop.  In the end Ravenclaw won the contest and twenty points, but everyone was too distracted by the live bats, the House ghosts, and all the junk food to feel too competitive.

"Ugh, I think I ate too much ice cream," moaned Ron as the fifth years climbed into bed that night.  "And fizzing whizbees, and cockroach clusters, and pepper imps…"

Eventually Ron's complaints ceased, and Harry and his roommates drifted off.  Harry found himself in one of his favorite dreams: he was in the middle of the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, and Gryffindor was up by five hundred points.  Harry was chasing the fluttering Snitch around the stadium while Malfoy desperately tried to keep up.  His hand was inches away, ready to seal Slytherin's fate –

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP!  Harry's eyes flew open.

"Wazzat?" mumbled Ron from deep within his four-poster.

"It's three A.M.," grumbled Dean.

The pounding came again.  No one else was getting up, so Harry climbed out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown.  When he opened the door he saw Leonard Fidemont, the third year reserve Beater, standing there with a candle in his fist.

"Leonard?" said Harry, blinking in the light.  "What's going on?"

"Parvati Patil came and woke us up.  We third-years are at the bottom of the steps, so we heard her banging on the entrance to the dormitory," he said.  "She says that there's something wrong with Hermione."

"Harry?"  Parvati's voice drifted up the stairwell.  She sounded worried.

"Coming," said Harry, tying the belt on his dressing gown.

"Take this," said Leonard, thrusting the candle into Harry's hand.

"Thanks," said Harry.  He descended the cold stone steps and found Parvati waiting at the bottom.

"Hermione's had a nightmare," said Parvati.  "She woke up screaming bloody murder and we can't calm her down.  She keeps asking for you."

They crossed the common room to the other side.  At the entrance to the girls' dormitory they found a group of four other girls waiting for them – Ginny, Lavender, Alicia, and Katie.  "What -?" began Harry.

"A boy can't enter the girls' dormitory without an escort of five girls, and even then it has to be pretty important," said Katie.  "So if this isn't absolutely necessary… well, we're all going to get tossed out on our rears."  They formed a tight circle with Harry in the middle.

"Here goes nothing," said Alicia, and the group walked forward.  They ascended a few steps and the girls breathed a sigh of relief.  "It seems you've been found worthy," said Alicia.

They passed three doorways full of watching, whispering girls and stopped at the fourth.  The other fifth year girls were standing on the steps above the door.  The escort stepped out of the way and Harry pushed open the door.

The room was dark, but in the dim light from his candle Harry could see Hermione sitting in one of the four-posters.  Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and she had wrapped her arms around them.  Silent tears were rolling down her face and she was trembling visibly.  Harry crossed the room, conscious of all the pairs of eyes on his back, and set his candle down on her bedside table.

Hermione looked up and saw him.  "Oh!" she cried, and burst into tears afresh.  "You're alive, I wouldn't believe it until I saw you –"

Harry wasn't sure of what to do.  He looked back at the doorway and caught Ginny's eyes.  She nodded at him and looked pointedly at Hermione.  Harry took the hint and sat down on the mattress next to her.  "Hey, it was only a dream, right?" he said, putting one arm around her shoulders.

"The most real, the most… horrible…" she gulped.  "I've never had a dream like that before.  I thought that maybe it might have actually happened…"

"Do you want to talk about it?  Maybe it'll help," he said, looking back up at the doorway and raising an eyebrow.  Parvati and Lavender gave him appraising looks, but Ginny, Alicia, and Katie nodded at him and closed the door.

Hermione seemed to be calming down.  She sniffled and rubbed at her eyes.  Harry handed her a box of tissues from her table, and she blew her nose rather noisily before beginning.  "I don't want to go into too much detail," she said.  "I dreamed that… that there was a fight on the roof of Hogwarts.  Voldemort was there, and so were the Death Eaters.  The professors were trying to save you, but they were all hurt and couldn't get to you.  You were tortured, and…"  Her voice rose in pitch with each word.  Alarmed, Harry tightened his arm around her shoulders.  "_He_ killed you.  I saw him standing over you.  I heard him laugh, Harry!  How can I know what that sounds like?  I've never heard it before."

"It was just a dream," said Harry.  "Your brain just made it up."

"Have _you_ heard him laugh?" said Hermione.

"Yes."

"Is it high pitched, and cold?"

"Yes, but Hermione –"

"And does he have a face that's not quite human?" she whispered.  "Like a reptile, with red eyes and slits for nostrils and skin so tight that his face is like a skull?"

Harry froze, staring at her.  "Yes," he said softly.

Hermione sighed.  "That wasn't even the worst part of it.  I felt like… like it could have been prevented.  That if something had happened differently, he couldn't have killed you."

"If what had happened differently?" Harry asked gently.

"I don't know," she said miserably.  "I don't understand.  I don't want to see that again, I don't want to go back to sleep!"  A new torrent of tears began.

Somehow, Harry got Hermione to lie down again.  She made a pitiful sight with tears dripping off the end of her nose.  Harry needed a moment to think about what to do, so he made a show of tucking her blanket back in.  Hermione was a rational person, not given to bursts of emotion, though she'd had her moments.  Harry rested one hand on her shoulder while he pondered.  She seemed grateful for the contact, and her tears gradually subsided while he sat there thinking.

"You don't think that you were seeing the future, do you?" he asked cautiously.

"Maybe," she said.  "I'm not sure."  She yawned sleepily.

Alarm bells went off in Harry's head.  He had expected Hermione to stomp on the very idea that she'd seen something yet to happen.  It smacked too much of Divination, and she had hated that class.  And more than that – if it _was_ a vision of the future, then it was very bad news for him.

"We can go see Dumbledore tomorrow," said Harry.  "He'll know what to do."

"Mmmm," said Hermione.

Harry looked down and saw that her eyes had drifted shut.  Before long she was drawing the rhythmic breath of sleep.  Harry waited a few minutes until he was sure that she was completely gone, and then tiptoed out of the room with his candle.  Parvati, Lavender, and the rest of the fifth year girls were sitting on the steps.  Some of them were asleep with their heads against the wall.

"What happened?" yawned Parvati.

"She's asleep," said Harry.

"Thank goodness," grumped Lavender, shaking her classmates awake.  They silently escorted Harry back down the stairs and left again without a word.  Only Parvati stayed behind long enough to ascertain that Hermione would be all right, then thanked Harry and bade him goodnight.

Harry returned to his own four-poster and sank down upon it with a grateful sigh.  Exhausted as he was, it took him a while to fall asleep again.  He was thinking about Hermione and wondering whether her dream had been anything more than a common nightmare.

**********

Harry spent a good portion of the next day in a daze.  Potions was the worst class of the bunch, and when Potions didn't go well, it went terribly.  Snape seemed to relish giving Hermione her first less than perfect mark in a long while.  Her potion was still a far cry better than Harry's, which was just a useless sludge.  Harry's first real misstep in a long while gave Snape the perfect excuse to pounce.  Judging from his classmates' faces as they left the dungeons, Snape's litany had been memorable, but Harry's mind had been elsewhere and he remembered none of it.

"Where _are _you today, mate?" said Ron.  "Don't tell me you're going to start slacking off, because there's no way I can keep this up without you."

"I had to get up in the middle of the night, what do you expect?" said Harry.

"What?  The middle of the night?" said Ron.

Harry gave him a long look.  "You _do_ sleep like the dead, don't you?  Hermione had a nightmare, and Parvati came to get me."

"What, she needed comforting?" laughed Ron.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, she did," said Harry.

Ron stiffened.  "Must have been some dream if she needed to see you right then," he said.

"It was a dream about me," said Harry.

"What, and she couldn't get over it without seeing you in the flesh?" said Ron derisively.

Irritated, Harry rounded on Ron.  "Why are you making such a big deal out of this?" he said.

"_I've_ had nightmares about you, and believe me, I never needed comforting," said Ron, glaring back at Harry.

Harry was completely dumbfounded.  "Why do you care?" he snapped.  "It wasn't an ordinary dream, she was inconsolable!  And since you don't believe me for whatever reason, I think you should talk to Hermione if you want to know any more about it.  Or maybe you should just go soak your head."  He turned on his heel and stalked off toward the Great Hall, leaving a scowling Ron behind.

Hermione was already seated at the Gryffindor table, away from everyone else.  "Prat," Harry muttered, sitting down beside her.

"What?" she said.

"Ron," said Harry.  "I told him about last night and all of a sudden he's mad at me.  I don't know what his problem is, and right now I really don't care."  He bit savagely into his sandwich.  "I'm not sure you heard me before, but do you want to go and see Dumbledore?  I'll go with you, if you like."

Hermione gave him a watery smile.  "That's nice of you, Harry, but Dumbledore's not here."

"What?" said Harry.  "Where'd he go?"

"The Ministry of Magic," said Hermione.  "It wasn't in the paper today, but I overheard Professor Flitwick talking to Professor Sinistra in the hall.  Something about the Wizengamot.  He's Chief Warlock, you know."

Harry nodded, mulling this over.  "Well, what about McGonagall or Professor Thornby?  You ought to see someone.  You didn't get top marks in Potions today, so you're obviously not back to normal."  He essayed a smile, and Hermione blushed and smiled back.

"All right," she said.  "I'll do it."

The rest of the day was very unpleasant for Harry.  Ron had decided not to speak to him and Harry didn't see any reason to rectify the situation.  They maintained a frosty silence through History of Magic and Care of Magical Creatures, and Hermione kept to herself all day.  Their teachers clearly knew that something was wrong, but they said nothing.

After dinner Hermione headed off to find Professor McGonagall, and Harry retreated to the library.  He headed for the usual corner and found Ron already there.  Ron gave him a venomous glare, but Harry merely sat down at the far end of the table.  For a long hour they ignored each other.  The only sound was the scritch-scratch of their quills on parchment.  They were so involved in the silence that they only noticed Hermione when she pulled out a chair and sat down.

"How did it go?" Harry exclaimed, eager to talk again after the uncomfortable hour.

"Okay," said Hermione.  She smiled tenuously.  "Professor McGonagall took me seriously, at least.  When she heard what I had to say, she called Professor Thornby in.  I was right – they said it probably wasn't an ordinary nightmare."

Harry glanced at Ron, who wasn't bothering to hide the fact that he was listening.  "So what was it?" he prodded.

"They think you might be right, Harry," she said quietly.  "I might have seen the future.  A possible future!" she cried when Harry went pale.  "Something that might happen as a result of precipitating events."

"Great," said Harry.  "Voldemort is going to kill me if something else does or doesn't happen.  That tells us a lot."

"_That's_ what you dreamed about?" interjected Ron.  "You-Know-Who killing Harry?"

"You know, you could have asked me about it sooner," said Hermione, sounding hurt.  "I really don't know why you decided to ignore me all day."

Ron turned red.  "I'm sorry," he said.  "I guess I just felt kind of left out, finding out that you two had this big conference without me and all."

"It wasn't like that," said Hermione.  "If you'd seen what I'd seen…"

"Yeah, I know," said Ron.  He looked hopefully at Harry.  Harry still wasn't feeling very charitable toward his friend, but Ron was so shamefaced that he relented and gave his friend a half-smile.  Ron grinned back, looking relieved.  "So… would you mind telling me about it now?" he said meekly.  She obliged, and when she finished, Ron's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"They say it's possible that I just had a really, really bad dream, but since my description of Voldemort matched yours… I might be a Dreamer," she finished excitedly.

"Bugger, Hermione!" said Ron, but Harry had no idea what a Dreamer was and said as much.  "They're really rare, but not quite as rare as Singers," Ron whispered.  "They have dreams about the future."

"Well, not exactly," said Hermione.  "Here's how the professors explained it.  Seers see things that _will _happen, no matter what you do, like Voldemort's return.  Dreamers see the end result of a chain of events, but people have free will, so that chain may or may not be unbroken," said Hermione.

"So it's a warning?" said Harry.

"They say that yes, most of the time it is," said Hermione.  "But the problem is knowing what that chain of events is!  Apparently the best Dreamers can interpret clues in what they see, and that helps."

"Kind of ironic that you can see the future, isn't it?  I mean, we all know what you thought of Divination," laughed Ron.

"It was Trelawney more than the class itself," said Hermione.  "We all know she's got some real talent – it's just that she's such a fraud the rest of the time."

"Speaking of Trelawney… do you think this might be your 'unknown potential'?" said Harry.

"I've been wondering about that, but since Professor McGonagall and Professor Thornby can't positively say that I am a Dreamer… who knows?" said Hermione.

"Well if your talent is showing up, then maybe mine will too," said Ron excitedly.

Hermione shivered.  "If it's anything like mine…  I don't know about this.  That nightmare was by far the worst I've ever had, but being a Dreamer could be really useful to Dumbledore and to you, Harry.  Besides, it's kind of nice to be able to do something that most people can't."

"But you're already special," said Ron.  "You don't need a rare talent for that."  Hermione smiled beatifically at him and Ron blushed again.

Harry picked up _A History of Magical Conflict_ to hide his grin.  "There's something wrong with your face, Ron," he said from behind the book.  "It keeps changing color."

Hermione laughed.  "Shut it, Harry," mumbled Ron.


	18. Harry vs Cho

**A/N: **I haven't got too much to say this time around, so I'll keep fairly short and sweet.  Thanks for the encouragement, Reeses!  And to respond to your suggestion - yes, I did consider submitting my work to Sugarquill, but by that time they were no longer accepting fifth year stories.  This is one of the reasons that I almost made this a sixth year story, although I began it a full year before Phoenix came out.  But if I'd changed it, we'd have no Sirius, and I was so fond of the scene where Sirius and Harry reunite (Chapter 3) that I just couldn't do it.  All right, I'll stop now and let you get to the story.  I hope everyone enjoys the latest installment.

Chapter 18: Harry vs. Cho

As the week passed and the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match drew ever closer, Ron developed a bad case of nerves.  It seemed that he could think of nothing else, which was a poorly timed problem to have.  There were upcoming tests in nearly every class, and Bellaton's Defense Against the Dark Arts exam was the day before the game.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent every evening studying, but Ron just couldn't concentrate.

"Oh, I'll never remember the stratagems of Carabosse, Marbidan, _and_ Grindelwald for the exam tomorrow," Ron sighed for the fourth time.

Hermione clenched her jaw and glared at Ron over the top of her book.

"Yeah, we know," said Harry.  "You've been saying that all night.  Look, if you can't study, why don't you just go to bed or something?  That way the rest of us might get some work done."

Ron went, but he seemed even worse the next morning.  He walked into the Great Hall like a zombie, and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team all took notice.  Harry could see Angelina, Alicia, and Katie all eyeing Ron uncertainly.

"Not letting the pressure get to you, I hope?" said Fred as he passed by Ron at the table.  Ron gave his brother a thoroughly miserable look.  Fred swallowed and hurried off.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was the last class of the day on Friday.  By the time it rolled around, Ron was approaching basket case status.  When Professor Bellaton handed out the exam in class, everyone began writing instantly – except for Ron.  He sat there with his quill in hand, staring at the paper as if he didn't see it at all.  With his head bent over his own parchment, Harry managed to catch Ron's eye and give him a Look, but Ron only scrubbed one hand through his hair.  It only made him look more pathetic.

Harry knew the subject matter very well, but his consternation over Ron was making it hard for him to concentrate.  Suddenly, Professor Bellaton appeared at Ron's shoulder.  He bent over and whispered something to Ron, and when he straightened again, Ron had lost his vacant expression.  A moment later he was scribbling like mad.  Harry breathed a quiet sigh of relief and refocused on his own work.

"Well!" Ron said brightly as he, Harry, and Hermione left the classroom.  "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"What _happened_ to you in there, mate?" said Harry.  "I thought you were done for."

"I was thinking about the match," said Ron.

"Honestly, Ron, can't you stop thinking about Quidditch for one minute?  Now's when you can start worrying about the game," said Hermione.

"What did Professor Bellaton say to you?" asked Harry.

Ron smiled.  "He said I was going to make a good Keeper because he helped train me."

"He talked to you about _Quidditch_?"  Hermione was flabbergasted, but Harry remembered how he'd felt before his first match four years ago.  He privately thought that Bellaton had said just the right thing.

"Oh, no," Ron suddenly gasped, staring over Harry's shoulder.  "Here comes the slave driver, let's get out of here..."

"Here who comes?" said Harry, twisting to look behind him just as Ron hissed, "Don't turn around, you idiot!"

Angelina was striding purposefully down the hall toward them, the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team in tow, all of whom looked extremely put out.  Ron tried to duck around the corner, but Angelina had them in her sights.  "Stop right there, Ronald Weasley!" she ordered loudly.  Ron cringed.  "Team meeting right now," she said.  "We've got to discuss tomorrow's strategy.  I would have preferred one last practice, but Ravenclaw booked the field."

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but he shut it again when he saw Fred and George shaking their heads vigorously at him.

There was nothing else for it.  Harry and Ron joined the group and followed Angelina out of the castle.  She seemed to need to work of nervous energy; they walked all the way around the school twice while Angelina rattled off instructions.  Hardly anyone else spoke, none of them wanting to incur her wrath.  It was when they reached the Quidditch stadium for the third time that Harry alone found the courage to say something.

"Angelina?  It's time for dinner, you know... and I think we're as ready as we're going to be."

She stopped dead in her tracks and blinked up at the sky.  "By Circe, you're right," she said.  "As long as you all know what you're doing," she said, turning to look at the team.

There was a hasty chorus of yeses.  Fred and George actually began to run but collided with someone who was leaving the stadium and went down in a heap.

"Hullo, Cho!" exclaimed Fred.  "Sorry about that, didn't see you there."  He began to help her up.

"That's all right," she said breathlessly, picking up her broom and brushing at her robes.

"Had a good practice, then?" said Katie.

"Ah, yes, thank you," she said, continuing to brush her clothes as if unaware of what she was doing.  She glanced at Harry, looking very pretty with her hair swaying in the breeze and her cheeks pinked by the brisk air.  "Actually, I was...  that is, I..."  She threw Harry a desperate look.

Harry took the hint.  "Er... what luck," he said.  "I wanted to talk to you about, um, the O.W.L.s."  He wished Ron would stop smirking.

"Oh!"  Her eyes went wide.  "Yes, I guess I could tell you what they're like."

Harry could tell from the looks on his teammates' faces that they weren't fooling anyone.  He trod hard on Ron's foot to wipe the smile off his face.  "Fine," he said.  "I'll see you and Hermione at dinner, Ron."  The rest of the team headed off toward the castle with Ron, who was limping slightly.  Harry didn't feel too sorry for him.

"Thanks," said Cho.  "I've been wanting to talk to you, but you always seem so busy with classwork and all."

"Yeah, the professors are keeping us pretty busy," he agreed.  So… do you want to sit down or something?"

"Okay," she said.  "The stands?"

They entered the stadium and climbed the flights of stairs up to the stands, high above the field.  Harry sat at the end of one of the benches, and Cho sat down beside him.  The wind was a lot stronger so high up, whipping Cho's jet-black tresses around and mussing Harry's own mop.  Harry wished it would stop; his hair was always unruly, but this was just making a bad thing worse right in front of Cho Chang.

They sat in silence for a long minute, looking down on the field.  Cho was chewing her lower lip, seeming very unsure of herself.  "So," Harry finally said, "what did you want to talk about?"

She looked up into Harry's face.  She had lovely dark, almond-shaped eyes.  Even when they were filled with sorrow, they still made Harry's heart skip a beat.  "To tell you the truth, I'm not really sure," she said.  "I… I did want to thank you for bringing Cedric's body back, though.  I'm sure you could have just left him, but it meant a lot to his parents… and to me."

"Oh," said Harry, his heart sinking a bit.  He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but felt that he should have known that this was coming.  "I was afraid you might hate me for what happened," he said, looking away from her.

"Oh, no!" Cho exclaimed.  "It's not like that at all, no one blames you," she said.  "You did what you thought was right.  It _was_ right.  You couldn't help it that You-Know-Who…"

"Well, it was fast," said Harry.  "Cedric never knew what hit him."

"That's good," Cho whispered.  There was another long pause, and then: "I miss him."

Harry's discomfort must have showed on his face, because Cho began apologizing immediately.  "I'm sorry," she said.  "I know it must be weird for you to hear this, especially after you asked me to the dance and all, but you're the only one who understands!"  She seized one of Harry's hands in both of hers.  Harry looked back at her in alarm and saw a feverish light in her eyes.

He pulled back a little.  "Have you talked to _anyone_ else about this?" he asked.  "Your parents, your friends?"

"Well, I've tried talking to Marietta," Cho said.  "She's in my class.  I know she feels bad for me, but she doesn't know what it's like."

"Why don't you go see Dumbledore?  He's been around the block a few times."

Cho gaped at him.  "You sound like you _know_ him," she said.

Harry thought about this for a moment and realized that most of the students at Hogwarts had little direct contact with the headmaster.  "Well, I think I'm kind of a special case," he said.  "After all, I seem to get into at least one big scrape every year."

"I don't know," said Cho uncertainly.  "My marks haven't been so good so far this term.  I'd be too embarrassed."

"All the more reason to go see him," Harry said firmly.  He peered into her face and she looked away again.  "Are you getting enough sleep?"

Cho's eyes filled with tears.  "Oh, you think I look awful," she said, her voice quavering.

"What?  No, that's not what I meant," said Harry, now thoroughly confused.  "You're one of the prettiest girls in school, everybody knows that –"  He shut his mouth with a snap.  He hadn't really meant to say that.

Cho ventured a tentative smile.  "You think so?"

"Well… yeah, everyone thinks so," Harry floundered.  "What I meant to say is, you sound like you could use someone who can do more than just listen.  I don't like to think about last June either, so I'm not good for much more than that."

"Well, you're a very good listener," Cho said softly, giving Harry one of her disarming smiles.

Harry gulped, feeling his face burning.  She was still holding his hand.  Was it just his imagination, or was she much closer to him than she had been minute ago?  There seemed to be a dozen emotions on display in her face: hope, uncertainty, sadness, fear…

Harry jumped to his feet.  Cho let go of his hand as if she had been burned.  "Why don't you go talk to Dumbledore right now?" he said quickly.

Cho's face darkened.  "Right now?"

There was an edge to her voice that caught Harry's attention.  "Is there something wrong with now?  I just thought that maybe you should see someone who could actually help you –"

Cho stood up and swung one leg over her broomstick.  "I came to _you_ for help," she said flatly.

Harry felt a flash of anger.  "Well, what kind of help are you looking for?"

Cho's eyes threw sparks at him.  "Good night, Harry," she said frostily.  A moment later she was soaring out of the stadium, leaving Harry to walk back to the castle alone.

By the time Harry reached the Great Hall, the sun had set and dinner was well underway.  He saw Cho at the Ravenclaw table surrounded by her usual gaggle of girlfriends.  She watched him come in, then turned up her nose and looked away.

"Finally!" said Ron as Harry approached his friends at the table.  "What took you so long?"

"Cho wanted to talk.  Well, I think that's what she wanted, but it got a little weird," said Harry.

"How so?" said Hermione.

"Well, she doesn't sound like she's coping with Cedric's loss very well," Harry said.  He explained what had happened and ended with the near-kiss.

"Excellent!" said Ron.  "How come you didn't _actually_ kiss?"

"I stopped her," sighed Harry.

"I thought you liked Cho," said Hermione.

"Well, I do," said Harry.  "Or I did, or… I don't know," he finished lamely.

"How'd you get from Cedric to almost kissing?" asked Ron.

"I told her she was pretty," said Harry.  Hermione raised her eyebrows.  "I wasn't trying to flirt!" he cried.  "I hurt her feelings by accident and I was just trying to fix things."  He sat down at the table.  "I don't understand what she's trying to do."

"She's grieving and confused," said Hermione.  "She knows you like her, and she knows that you're a nice guy.  But she's not over Cedric yet, and she wants to be comforted, so she figures - why not by you?"

"I'll tell you why not," said Harry.  "It's creepy being a dead guy's stand-in, and I think that's all I am to Cho right now.  Besides, I didn't know what to say or do, and I don't like talking about the worst night of my life."

"So how did you get away?" said Ron.

"Well, when I didn't kiss her, she got mad and flew off," said Harry.  He turned to look in Cho's direction and wasn't surprised to see her quickly avert a glare.  "Boy, if looks could kill."

"I think maybe you've just lost any chance of ever dating Cho Chang, mate," said Ron.

"I guess it's up to her then, isn't it?" said Harry.  "Maybe when she gets over Cedric she might like me for me."

**********

"Ron!  Eat!" Angelina commanded the next morning at the Gryffindor table.  Ron merely sighed and poked at his eggs with a fork.

"Come on, Ron, I thought you were feeling better about the match," said Alicia.

"Yesterday wasn't game day," sighed Ron.

"Good morning, Gryffindors!" boomed a voice behind them.  They looked up to see Professor Bellaton and Professor McGonagall standing above them.  "It's a beautiful day for Quidditch," Bellaton said.  "Hope you're ready to hang on to the Cup."

"Are you supporting us?" said Katie.  "I thought only the Heads of Houses took sides."

"I was Keeper on the Gryffindor team once," Bellaton explained.

Professor McGonagall looked down at Ron.  "Good luck today, Weasley," she said kindly.

"Thank you, ma'am," said Ron, but he didn't look any happier.

Bellaton clapped him on the shoulder.  "Don't worry about it.  You know what you're doing.  You Weasleys seem to have a natural affinity for Quidditch."

The professors moved on.  Ron frowned down at his plate.  "These eggs are cold.  Pass me that bowl," he said brusquely.  Harry did as he asked, and Ron attacked his breakfast with grim determination.

"I wonder what House Professor Thornby was in?" said Hermione.

"I don't know," said Harry.  "She's never said, has she?"

"Come on, team," said Angelina.  "It's time to go."

Harry, Ron, and their teammates headed down to the stadium.  They changed into their scarlet-and-gold uniforms while Angelina began one last pep talk.  Students were climbing up into the stands above them.  Dust trickled down from the rafters under the hundreds of feet.  Finally it was game time and they moved to stand before the gate, broomsticks at the ready.

"How're you doing?" Harry whispered to Ron.

"I feel sick," he muttered through his teeth.

The gate opened and there was no more time for conversation.  Harry slapped Ron on the back, and they all flew out in a line to the sound of Lee Jordan's magnified voice and the noise of the crowd.  "The Gryffindor Quidditch team!  Johnson, Spinnet, Bell, Weasley, Weasley, Weasley, and Potter!"

Harry soared around the stadium with the rest of the team, drinking in the cool breeze on his face and the cheers from the crowd.  They took their places as Lee announced the Ravenclaw team.  Cho Chang expertly maneuvered into her position directly opposite Harry.  Her eyes bored into his as if she were trying to stare him down.

Madam Hooch blew her whistle and tossed up the Quaffle, and Cho streaked straight at Harry.  He barely had time to drop out of her way; her dark blue robes snapped against his face, leaving a mark that smarted in the breeze.  There was no time to dwell on it; Harry soared off in the opposite direction, his eyes scanning the stadium for the Snitch.

"Ravenclaw takes possession!  It's Bradley with the Quaffle, he passes to Worthing, Worthing passes to Lovegood, she's heading for the goal!"

Harry heard but didn't allow himself to watch.  Every moment counted in a Quidditch match.

"It's the first test of the new Gryffindor Keeper, Ron Weasley!  Lovegood's dodging the Bludgers like mad, she's got an open shot – GREAT SAVE BY WEASLEY!"

"YEAH!" cheered Harry, pumping his fist in the air.  The sound was lost in the general roar.  He soared past Ron, giving him a high-five as he went.  Ron's face was alight with exhilaration, all trace of nausea gone.

"It's Bell in possession of the Quaffle, she passes to Spinnet, Spinnet takes aim – GRYFFINDOR SCORES!"

Harry whooped again.  Across the field, Cho scowled at him.

"Ravenclaw's back in possession, Lovegood's got – CHANG DIVES TOWARD THE PITCH!"

In a heartbeat Harry had turned around and was streaking toward Cho.  She was hurtling to the earth as fast as she could go.  Harry's eyes searched frantically, but he couldn't see the Snitch anywhere.  A quick glance at Cho revealed both of her hands still on her broomstick and a sardonic little smile on her lips.  A heartbeat before it was too late, Harry put two and two together and swerved out of the way, skimming just above the grass.

"MERLIN'S BEARD, CHANG PULLS OFF THE WRONSKI FEINT!" cried Lee.  "Potter barely avoids plowing into the ground!"

Stunned, Harry caught Cho's eye.  She smiled fiercely at him and took off again.  _Fine,_ Harry thought.  _If that's the way she wants to play, then that's how we'll play._

"This is proof positive that behind Chang's pretty face lurks the clever but deadly female Ravenclaw brain –"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry Professor, but I'm speaking from experience here –"

"I'm warning you, Jordan –"

"And let's get back to the game!  The Ravenclaw Chasers are mobbing the Gryffindor Keeper!  Bradley shoots – ten points to Ravenclaw!"

After Cho's feint, the match really took off.  The entire Ravenclaw team seemed to have taken a page from her book, playing as fast and as hard as possible without actually playing dirty.  Gryffindor rose to the challenge, and soon even the crowd seemed tense.  The game went neck-and-neck, with both Keepers making as many saves as possible and the Chasers flying at their best.  The black Bludgers whizzed around the stadium as the Beaters tried their hardest to unseat the other team.  Fred and George looked more serious than Harry had ever seen them before.

During one long stretch in which Gryffindor was unable to score, Harry turned Cho's own strategy back on her.  When Katie, Alicia, and Angelina were back in possession and heading for Ravenclaw's goalposts, Harry suddenly put on a burst of speed, heading straight for their Keeper.  He stretched out his arm to make it look even more convincing.  Cho bought it; she flew up behind him and tried to get past but was unable to match the Firebolt's speed.  At the last second Harry veered up and Cho was unable to completely avoid her own Keeper.  Their brooms collided and they tumbled away from the goalposts.  Angelina and Katie both scored before Cho and her Keeper could sort themselves out.

As they passed the three-hour mark, it was plain that everyone was starting to tire.  It was the longest game that Harry had ever endured.  The Snitch was proving to be especially elusive, but it wasn't for lack of trying on Harry's part.  Whenever he spotted the fluttering golden ball, the Ravenclaw Beaters sent a few well-aimed Bludgers his way and he lost track of it.  Cho came close more than once as well, but the twins foiled her every time.  The Seekers continued to feint each other, and Harry could feel his shoulders aching from constantly pulling his broomstick away at the last moment.

At four hours they finally reached a turning point, but it was not in Gryffindor's favor.  An exhausted Alicia failed to avoid one of Ravenclaw's Bludgers and took it in the head.  With only two Chasers left, Gryffindor quickly lost the lead and the gap began to widen.

"Find that Snitch and end this game, Harry!" Angelina shouted as she passed him on her way to Ravenclaw's goalposts.

"What d'you think I've been trying to do?" he exclaimed.

The minutes ticked by; Ravenclaw's lead increased to sixty, seventy, eighty points.  Harry circled high above the other players, searching desperately for the tiny ball that would finish the game.

And then he saw it – a flash of gold right in the middle of the field.  In an instant he was pelting towards it as fast as his broom could carry him.  Cho saw it too; from the other end of the field she began to rush headlong toward him on a collision course.

When asked about it later, Harry was not able to recall just what made him take his eyes off the Snitch and look up.  Straight ahead at the Gryffindor goalposts, a Bludger slammed into Ron's shoulder at top speed.  The force of it knocked Ron clean off his seat; he grasped futilely for his broomstick and began to plummet toward the earth.

No one else seemed to have noticed; the crowd was roaring in excitement as the Seekers both rocketed toward the Snitch, but Harry had forgotten all about the game.  He dove beneath an astonished Cho and flew as fast as he could, straining to catch up with Ron.  When he was close enough to see the paralyzed terror in Ron's eyes, he stretched out his hand and snatched at him.  There was an excruciating tug on his arm, and Ron's fall stopped with a jerk.  "Gotcha!" he gasped.

Harry's palms were sweaty; Ron's hand slipped out of his, and Harry grabbed his cuff.  There was a ripping sound at Ron's shoulder.  Harry's muscles were screaming in protest.  "I can't hold you!" he shouted.

With a supreme effort, Ron threw up his free arm to try and catch hold of the Firebolt.  The ripping sound came again, and his sleeve completely gave way.  Harry's breath caught in his throat, but Ron barely began to fall again before one of the twins caught him.  A split second later the rest of the team swarmed around them, bearing Ron up.

"Showoff," Ron gasped.

Harry sagged against his broom handle, wearied beyond belief.

They drifted down to the pitch and found a crowd of people running up to meet them, including Madam Hooch, Professor McGonagall, Hermione, and the entire reserve team.  "My goodness!" cried Professor McGonagall.  "Weasley, are you all right?"

Ron nearly fell off his teammates' brooms.  "Not quite," he gasped as he straightened up.

"Madam Pomfrey will want to look at that shoulder," Madam Hooch said.

Professor McGonagall was holding a hand to her heart.  "Weasley, Potter, each year you spend at Hogwarts takes three off my life."

"You know, you weren't the thing I was expecting to catch," Harry panted.

"Too bad _you're_ not worth one hundred and fifty points, Ickle Ronniekins," said Fred, trying and failing to sound lighthearted.

"He's worth a lot more than that," Angelina said stoutly.  "Well done, Harry."

Nearby, the Ravenclaw team was celebrating with what seemed like their entire House.  Cho was waving the Snitch around triumphantly with nary a backward glance at the Gryffindor team.  "Guess I picked a bad time to fall off my broom," Ron lamented.

"Poppycock," scoffed Professor McGonagall.  "I played a five-hour game when I was a Chaser on the Gryffindor team.  I could barely hold my head up by the end.  You all did very well.  Fifty points for Potter's selfless act and your quick wits," she said to the team.  "I'd give you more, but that would look like favoritism."

"Yeah, and it could set a dangerous trend," said George.  "Some fool Slytherin might throw himself off the Astronomy tower to get some extra points."

"Perhaps," said Professor McGonagall with a dry smile.  "Come, then – off to Madam Pomfrey with you, Weasley."

Ron protested even though his shoulder was causing him obvious pain.  In the end his complains merely earned him a group of mother hens in Angelina, Katie, Ginny, and Hermione.  They marched him up to the hospital wing and hovered around while Madam Pomfrey prodded his shoulder, all the while tsking about how dangerous Quidditch was.  It turned out that Harry had caught Ron by the arm that had already been damaged by the Bludger.  "You're lucky you didn't dislocate your shoulder!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey.  "Even with what I can do, you're still going to be black and blue tomorrow.  _Why_ Dumbledore allows this sport to continue at Hogwarts, I simply can't imagine!"

"What's that red mark on your face, Harry?" Katie asked.

Harry raised a hand to his cheek.  There was a spot about the size of a Knut on his skin that stung when he touched it.  He explained how Cho's robes had whipped against his face when the game started.

 "She did it on purpose," said Ginny.  "I saw her.  It was downright vicious, and I've never known Ravenclaws to act like that.  They're usually so nice."

"Cho and I had a disagreement," Harry said.  Ginny's eyebrows rose, but Harry refused to elaborate further, especially in front of Fred and George.  They'd make his life a living hell if they knew she'd tried to kiss him – and that he'd refused.

"Well, we have beaten them four years running," said Katie.  "Maybe this was just fuel for the fire."

"They could have at least acknowledged that their bloody Beaters nearly killed Ron," grumped George.

"Ravenclaw's not as bad as that," said Ron dismissively.  "They were too excited about Cho catching the Snitch.  I'll bet they didn't even notice."

"We already have a sworn enemy, and that's Slytherin.  We don't need another!" said Angelina.  "Don't start hating the Ravenclaws for a game that they won fair and square.  At least they didn't cheat."

While Madam Pomfrey continued to examine Ron's battered shoulder, the conversation turned to an analysis of the game.  It was an animated discussion, but Harry spent most of it in silence, thinking about Cho.  It was true; she'd been celebrating with the rest of her team with no concern for Ron whatsoever.  Harry had always thought of Cho as a nice person; she'd even been kind to him when she had to turn down his invitation to the Yule Ball.  But the Cho he'd seen today was a completely different person, spiteful and selfish, in Harry's opinion.

Harry knew that Angelina was right.  Ravenclaw had rightfully won the game and there was no point being bitter about it, but Harry found himself unwilling to let Cho off so easily.  _She could have at least looked back,_ he thought.

By the time he left the hospital wing, Harry had resolved to think of Cho no more.


	19. The Dueling Club Reborn

**A/N:** Well, here it finally is, the next chapter.  This one took a while to get out; it wasn't easy to write, and then came Thanksgiving and all that.  The good news is that the next chapter is mostly written already and should be posted fairly soon.

Many thanks to Kristin for your review!  I am so pleased that you think this story is worth reading, and I am flattered beyond belief that I was the recipient of your very first review.  I don't think I put quite enough humorous stuff in the story; it is hard to be as witty as J.K. Rowling manages to be, but I do try.  FYI, I am not currently planning to kill off Sirius.  I like him too much, and poor Harry has suffered so much tragedy already.  Not that my ending won't be hard for me to write – I've been planning out exactly how to do it for a while now.

To answer your question about the Wheel of Time series: yes, I have read it!  All ten books.  To be perfectly frank, I was disappointed with the last one (and the one before it).  I read an editorial that called the pace of the last four books "glacial", and I find that an apt description.  Still, the breadth and depth of the story never fails to amaze me.  I would not call myself a fan of the fantasy genre at all, but I am very fond of Robert Jordan and J.R.R. Tolkien.  The Lord of the Rings books are still the best I have ever read.  I received a set of them for my birthday when I was in the seventh grade and fell madly in love; since then, I have read them at least eight times.  The funny thing is that when I first started reading Wheel of Time I thought it was a complete Tolkien wannabe, but it grew on me very quickly.  Getting back to your question, though…

You have a sharp eye.  Two things are notions I have adapted from the Wheel of Time: being a Dreamer, and the "bonding" between Harry and Professor Thornby.  I don't mean for either of them to be the same as what Robert Jordan conceived of.  The connection between Harry and his guardian allows her to know where he is and when he is in danger, since it's her job to protect him.  In Jordan's books, Bonded characters can also sense each others' emotions, but Harry and Professor Thornby can't do that.  I deliberately did _not_ give the connection the formal name of "Bonding" because that would have been a total rip-off of Jordan, and they're not quite the same anyway.  I took the idea of the ability to forge a special connection between two people (for the purpose of Harry's protection) and ran with it.

Hermione's Dreamer talent is like an extension of Divination; she can see events that may or may not happen in the future, and as she learns more about the talent, she will become more able to read the clues in her dreams.  I thought it was fun to give this talent to Hermione because she is so disparaging of Professor Trelawney; it adds an element of irony.  As of this chapter, she's only had one dream that was special, but there will be more.  That's as far as I'm planning to take it; there's a lot more to being one of Jordan's Dreamers.  "Dreamer" is the same term that Jordan uses, but I didn't change it because it fits in with the other talents: Singer, Seer, etc., and I couldn't think of a better name for it anyway.  The idea of Singers is mine entirely.  I suppose it's possible that someone else has come up with it on their own, but it did not come from Jordan's work.

I hope that answers your question!  I think it's pretty cool that someone noticed the connection.  With all that being said, I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter.

Chapter 19: The Dueling Club Reborn

The aftermath of the Quidditch match wasn't as bad as Harry had expected.  Everyone in Gryffindor House thought he'd done the right thing, and once Ron realized this, his guilty feelings were assuaged somewhat.  The two Ravenclaw Beaters even came up to Ron at breakfast the next day and apologized profusely for nearly killing him.  While they were there, Harry saw Cho looking at him from the Ravenclaw table, a tangled mixture of emotions on her face.  Harry looked away and made a point of not looking in her direction again.

Of course the Slytherins could always be counted on.  Malfoy never passed up the opportunity to mock Harry and Ron whenever he saw them together.  "You should have taken the hundred and fifty points, Potter!" he'd shout.  "Surely you know that all the Weasleys are worthless?"

"Ignore him, Ron," Hermione said airily while Ron threw murderous glances at his enemy.

When they walked into the first Potions class of the week, Malfoy was still at it.  "Save me, Harry, save me!" he cried in a high-pitched voice, pretending to swoon.  The Slytherins all snickered, and Malfoy preened under their approval.

"Harry, what would you do if Fred and George knocked Malfoy off _his_ broom?" Ron said loudly.

"Let him drop, of course," Harry answered just as loudly.

All the Gryffindors laughed except for Hermione, whose scowl nearly matched Malfoy's.  "Remember what you promised Dumbledore!" she hissed at them.  "You said wouldn't antagonize them!"

"We didn't start this," Ron said darkly.

"Yeah," Harry agreed.  "Do you expect us to take this lying down?"

If Snape hadn't walked in and started the class just then, Harry knew what Hermione would have said – yes, she _did _expect them to take it.  But whether or not it they were breaking their promise or just bending it, taking Malfoy on was a good way to get him to shut up.

With more than a month until Gryffindor's next Quidditch match against Hufflepuff, things seemed to be settling back down for a while.  Without Angelina hounding them, Harry and Ron felt almost peaceful, although they still faced the same mountain of homework.

But if things were quieting down at Hogwarts, they were heating up in the rest of the magical world.  There were rumors of Giants on the move and sightings of dark creatures on the Continent.  Dumbledore was frequently absent from dinner, and Professor McGonagall refused to answer questions on the subject.  Most ominous of all were the mysterious deaths that were being reported in the _Daily Prophet_.  Husbands and wives were found dead in their homes without a wound on their bodies – but in nearly every case, the Dark Mark had been emblazoned on their front door.

What astounded Harry, Ron, and Hermione the most was that the Ministry of Magic still maintained that Voldemort was not behind the attacks.  "How blind can you get?" Ron exclaimed after reading yet another article about the death of a hapless magical couple.  "They can't possibly think they're going to fool people forever!  There's no one else it can be!"

It wasn't long before they found that Ron was grossly mistaken.  On a morning that began like any other, a tawny owl fluttered down next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table to deliver the _Daily Prophet_.  There in bold print was the headline "MINISTRY OFFERS THEORIES IN STRING OF MURDERS".  All three of them leaned over to read the article.

_Kingston upon Hull, Yorkshire -- The bodies of Bradley and Cordelia Langston were discovered last night by John Dimmings, a friend of the couple.  Their demise appears to be the latest in the string of murders that have terrorized the magical community for the past several months.  The elderly witch and wizard were found with expressions of surprise on their faces and nary a mark upon them.  Healers from St. Mungo's immediately pronounced the Killing Curse as the cause of death, and said that the couple had been dead for almost twenty-four hours before their bodies were found._

_Mr. Dimmings was distraught with grief and declined to comment.  Ministry Aurors have stated that he is not a suspect in this case._

_"We have verified Mr. Dimmings' alibi for the night in question," said Kingsley Shacklebolt, a senior Auror with the Ministry of Magic._

_When asked about who may be perpetrating these crimes, Auror Shacklebolt offered no insight.  "We are doing everything we can to catch those responsible for these terrible crimes," he said.  "I would advise all witches and wizards to be extremely cautious during these dark times.  We have evidence that implies that this may not be the work of a single person: multiple sets of footprints at the crime scenes, lack of any struggle when multiple victims are involved, and more."_

_Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge, however, disagrees with Auror Shacklebolt's theory.  "He may be correct; we are ruling nothing out, but I think there is one obvious candidate that has been overlooked until now: Sirius Black."_

Harry's mouth fell open.

_"As everyone knows, Black was convicted fourteen years ago of multiple murders and of being a Death Eater.  He escaped from Azkaban two years ago and despite our best efforts we have been unable to recapture him.  Everything fits: Black's penchant for murder, the Dark Mark on the victims' doors, and the ability to remain unseen."_

_The Daily Prophet inquired about specific evidence that points to Black as the perpetrator, and Minister Fudge admits that there is none.  "However," he said, "I have no doubt that this is his work."_

_Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, recently made public his opinion that Black was never a Death Eater nor was he responsible for the murders of Peter Pettigrew and a dozen Muggles.  According to Dumbledore, Pettigrew staged his own death and framed Black for it._

_Minister Fudge dismisses Dumbledore's story as "utter nonsense.  He is merely trying to protect his golden boy, Harry Potter, by altering the truth."_

_Sirius Black was a close friend and confidant of Harry Potter's deceased parents, Lily and James Potter, and is Harry's godfather, though he has played no role in the young wizard's life.  Black has also been blamed for betraying the Potters to their deaths.  He has not been seen since his escape from Azkaban._

Harry stared at the _Daily Prophet_ in disbelief.

"How _can_ he?" sputtered Ron.  "Investigating every angle?  He's leaving out the most obvious one of all!"

"Oh, Harry," sighed Hermione.  "It always comes back to you, doesn't it?"

"They've got no evidence against him, none at all!" Harry muttered harshly.  "How can they ignore Dumbledore in favor of a posturing –"

He cut off in mid-sentence as thick black script appeared on the _Daily Prophet _before them, letter by letter, as if being written by an invisible hand.

_Do not discuss this in front of the other students.  You have an audience._

Harry casually glanced at the Slytherin table and saw Draco Malfoy watching them with narrowed eyes.  He was clutching his own copy of the_ Daily Prophet_.  Looking back at the paper, Harry saw the handwritten words fade away in a manner reminiscent of Tom Riddle's diary.  Another message appeared where the first had been.

_Please stay after class today._

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked up at the staff table.  Professor McGonagall was tapping an eagle feather quill against her cheek.  There was no disobeying the deadly serious look she shot their way, so they folded up the paper and ate the rest of their breakfast in silence.

Not talking about Sirius didn't stop Harry from thinking about him.  He had been hoping that the passage of time would make the magical world forget that his godfather was still on the lam, but Fudge had just single-handedly dragged him back into the public eye.  Harry wondered how Sirius was doing.  Was he being kept busy, or did he have to stay hidden at Alverbrooke?  One thing was certain – he hadn't been seen out and about anywhere, or the _Daily Prophet_ would have broken the story before you could say "Azkaban".

Transfiguration was the very last class of the day.  When it finally ended the students all hurried out, eager for the evening meal.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione made a show of slowly packing up their books, and by the time they finished the classroom had emptied.

Professor McGonagall rose from her chair.  "Thank you for obeying my instructions this morning," she said primly.  "I am going to keep this short, but we must wait for Professor Thornby.  I have asked her to join us."

As if her name had been a summons, Professor Thornby appeared in the doorway.  She was no more than three steps into the room when Professor McGonagall waved her wand.  Harry felt the momentary deafness that marked the ward against eavesdropping.

Professor McGonagall wasted no time.  "I want to assure the three of you that Sirius Black has not been seen, nor does anyone know where he is," she said.  "Apparently I also need to remind you not to speak of him where others can hear you.  In fact, you should not mention him at all.  Him or Remus Lupin."

"Why can't we talk about Lupin?" challenged Ron.  Professor McGonagall raised one thin eyebrow.  "…Professor," added Ron.

"It's better if the rest of the world forgets that he exists," she answered.  "The headmaster must hide his allies from both Voldemort and the Ministry.  If the Ministry catches even a hint of active opposition…"  She let the implication hang in the air.

"So I'm supposed to completely cut myself off from Sirius?" Harry said testily.

"How is that so different from the past few months?" said Professor McGonagall.  "You haven't been writing to him, have you?"

"No!" Hermione exclaimed.

"We're not as thick as that," scoffed Ron.

Professor McGonagall smiled wryly.  "Last year I might have disagreed, but you and Potter have both shown exceptional improvement of late."  There was a definite note of pride in her voice.

"You don't have to sever your ties completely," Professor Thornby said.  "Christmas is near, and you will see him then.  If you must communicate with Sirius in the meantime, I will carry the message."

"Celeste is the only person you should use as a go-between," said Professor McGonagall.  "She is tied to you, Potter, and you would know if she'd turned against you or if you were speaking to a look-alike in disguise.  I know it sounds farfetched," she said, seeing their surprised faces, "but you can't be too careful, especially when the enemy has already used Polyjuice Potion to infiltrate the school."

"You think Voldemort might try that again?" Hermione asked, wide-eyed.

The professors exchanged glances.  "These heavy matters were not meant for your young hearts," said Professor Thornby.

"I'd say we're in pretty deep already," Harry countered.  Ron and Hermione nodded their agreement.

"You can say whatever you like, but you already know as much as you need to," Professor McGonagall said firmly.  "Don't discuss Black or Lupin around the other students, and for heaven's sake be on your guard.  When you start acting as if you have something to hide, people take notice."  She left it at that, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione knew exactly whom she meant.  When it became clear that they would get nothing else out of the professors, they headed off to dinner.

"I wonder what it was that they wouldn't tell us?" said Ron as soon as the professors were out of earshot.

"I didn't think Professor McGonagall needed to duck the question," said Hermione.  "Of course Voldemort will try to infiltrate the school again – Harry and Dumbledore are both here."

"Maybe someone else wants to put a spy at Hogwarts," said Harry.

"Of course – Fudge!" said Hermione.  "We all know he wants Dumbledore out of the picture."

"But do you think he'd stoop that low?" mused Ron.  "If Fudge wanted to replace someone at the school using an imposter, he'd have to kidnap them or something."

"He might not need to use Polyjuice Potion to get a spy in here," said Hermione.  "What about one of the teachers, or some of the students?  There have to be people at Hogwarts who agree with his way of thinking."

 The conversation ended on that depressing note, as they were too close to the dining hall to continue.  As he sat down at the Gryffindor table, Harry found himself looking at his classmates with a suspicious eye, wondering who might be doing a little reconnaissance work for Fudge.  It was impossible to tell such things from a person's exterior – Harry knew that – but that Ravenclaw third year looked a bit shifty, and that seventh year Hufflepuff had rather beady eyes…

"Hey, Harry!  Catch!"

Something small hurtled past Harry's face and landed right in a nearby pitcher, spraying everyone with pumpkin juice.  The pitcher gave an echoing _Ribbit!_ and a pair of round yellow eyes peeked above the brim.  A pair of webbed feet followed, but instead of being green or brown, they were a shocking pink.

"Grab him, Harry!" shouted George.  Harry reached forward and put his fist around the little frog, which was scrambling out of the pitcher.  The rest of its lithe body was the same neon pink as its feet and covered in purple spots.

"What on earth?" said Hermione.

"It's just an ordinary pond frog," said Fred.  "The charm we used on him had some unexpected side effects."

"What charm would that be?" laughed Dean.

"Whoa!" cried Harry, before Fred could answer.  The slippery frog wriggled desperately in his grasp and slipped right out of his fingers.  It flopped onto the table, gave another loud croak, and jumped six feet into the air.  Alicia shrieked as it landed in her potatoes.

"The Anti-Gravity Charm!" George crowed triumphantly.

The frog leapt straight up again and landed several feet further down the table, where a group of first-year girls began screaming.  With each successive jump, more food was splattered and more girls squealed.  Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were beside themselves with glee.

"Oi, better catch it now," a red-faced George choked as the frog sailed from the Gryffindor table over to Ravenclaw, beginning a fresh wave of shrieks.

The frog didn't seem to want to be caught.  It bounded down the Ravenclaw table while Fred and George ran along either side, grasping for it.  It soared over Fred's head to the Hufflepuff table and then to Slytherin, and began hopping back the other direction.

By the time Fred finally closed his fist around the frog, which was protesting vocally, half the students were in tears.  Up at the staff table, Professor McGonagall's shoulders shook with the effort of restraining herself, and Dumbledore was laughing aloud with the rest of the teachers.  Only Snape had managed to maintain his usual dark scowl.

"Thank you for providing us all with the entertainment," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat.  "If I find a frog in my eggs tomorrow, I shall know who to blame."  The Gryffindors applauded, and Fred and George bowed, grinning.

"I was going to save my announcement for after dinner," Dumbledore said, "but since I am already standing, I will deliver it now.  Professor Thornby and Professor Bellaton have kindly agreed to reinstate the Dueling Club."  Twitters of excitement broke out all over the hall.  "I am glad that you approve," Dumbledore continued.  "It is my opinion that you can all use some extra training on top of Defense Against the Dark Arts.  There will be two sessions each week – one for the first, second, and third years, and one for the rest.  The first meeting for the upperclassmen will be tomorrow evening after dinner.  Lowerclassmen will meet the following night.  Participation is voluntary, of course."

Dumbledore sat down again and the Great Hall exploded in talk.  Only the upperclassmen remembered the Dueling Club, which had been formed three years ago.  Since the incompetent Gilderoy Lockhart had been its founder, however, it had only existed for a short time.

"Lockhart was useless, but Bellaton and Thornby might actually know what they're about," Seamus said excitedly.  "_Everyone_ is going to come to this."

As it turned out, Seamus was quite correct.  The following evening Harry, Ron, and Hermione left Gryffindor tower with every fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh year, leaving the envious lowerclassmen behind.  As they neared the Great Hall they blended with the streams of students from the other Houses.  Once inside they saw that the House tables had been removed to make room for everyone.  Professors Thornby and Bellaton stood in the middle of the room while the students gradually formed a ring around them.  Harry looked up toward the staff table, which was still in place, and saw the Heads of Houses seated there: McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout.

"Welcome to the Dueling Club," said Professor Thornby after everyone had assembled.  "We are pleased that so many of you have decided to come, but you should know that Professor Bellaton and I will be treating this club like our classes.  You will not be graded, but you will be expected to practice what you have learned between meetings.  If you miss too many sessions, you will not be able to keep up with your classmates."

"We'll be teaching you to fight and defend not only with spells but with the staff as well," said Bellaton.  A murmur ran through the students, who were grinning at each other.  "I know it sounds exciting, but we'll be starting with the basics in both.  First up: _Expelliarmus._"  Several students groaned loudly.  "I'll bet that at least twenty-five percent of you can't properly manage it!" Bellaton shouted over them.  "There's no shame in that, but you've got to get the foundations right before you build on them.  Now divide off into pairs with a student from your own House and year!"

The Heads of Houses stepped down from the staff table while the students formed four separate groups.  Harry found himself paired with Neville again, and they faced off in a long line with the rest of the Gryffindors.  When Professor Flitwick walked by, Harry realized what the other professors were doing; there were simply too many students for Bellaton and Professor Thornby to watch by themselves.

"When I give the word," Bellaton called, "attempt to disarm your opponent using _Expelliarmus_.  Use any curses or hexes, and you will be asked to leave."  He paused a moment to let the threat sink in.  "We'll take turns by Houses.  Gryffindor first.  Choose which partner will cast!"  Neville nodded nervously at Harry.  "Ready?"  Harry leveled his wand at Neville.  "Begin!"

"_EXPELLIARMUS!" _the Gryffindors bellowed as one.  Neville's wand flew out of his hand and straight into Harry's palm.  Next to him, Ron was grasping Hermione's wand, but it seemed that Bellaton had been right – at least half of the students had not properly disarmed their partners.  A few wands flew up toward the ceiling instead of into the casters' grips, and some of the charms had not worked at all.

They switched sides.  Neville cast the charm along with the others, and Harry was completely shocked when his wand was ripped from his fist to land neatly in Neville's grip.  He stood there with his mouth open while Neville grinned unabashedly at him.

"Well done, Neville!" said Hermione, who was clutching Ron's wand.  Neville blushed but continued to smile.

The other Houses took their turns while Professor Flitwick walked among the Gryffindors who were having problems, correcting their pronunciations and wand movements.  Eventually the students were all practicing the Disarming Charm over and over again.  This wasn't too exciting for anyone who had already mastered it, so the groups were broken down farther.  Harry and several of the others soon found themselves blocking the Disarming Charm with the Shield Charm while the others tried to master _Expelliarmus._

Eventually the professors moved on to the staff, which was what everyone had been waiting for.  They first learned _Elongia_, which transformed their wands into wooden staves that were as tall as their owners.  The students that mastered it the fastest were soon off in a corner with Professor Thornby, who began to teach them the forms.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione went through the motions, though they had already learned the forms over the summer.  They certainly weren't about to let on that they had had lessons in advance.  Draco Malfoy was also ahead of the learning curve; Harry could tell that his moves were executed with a precision that could only come from previous instruction.  _Probably learned the quarterstaff along with hawking, riding, and dancing,_ he thought grimly.

When the lesson ended, most of the students had gotten the hang of _Elongia_ and had started on the forms.  Everyone was talking animatedly as they left the Great Hall for their dormitories, excited about the possibilities that lay before them.

"Hey, Neville, what have they been putting in your pumpkin juice?" said Dean.  "No offense, but you're just not yourself this year."

"It's the prefect badge," said Fred.  "He used to be a perfectly decent chap, and now he's turning into a regular Hermione Granger."

Neville beamed with pride.  "I guess I was just tired of being a screw-up," he said.

"But you'll always be a screw-up, Longbottom," drawled a voice behind them.  "It's in your blood, you know."

Neville's face hardened.  He whirled to face Malfoy, who was flanked, as usual, by Crabbe and Goyle.

"You shut up about my family," he said fiercely.

Malfoy smiled as if he were savoring something particularly delicious.  "From what I hear, you live with your dotty old grandmother because your parents don't know their heads from their –"

_"STUPEFY!"_ Neville shouted, pointing his wand at Malfoy with the speed of a striking cobra.  Malfoy keeled over sideways.  Goyle could have caught him, but he was so surprised that he stood stock still and let Malfoy crash to the floor.

"You can't _do_ that!" shrieked Pansy Parkinson.  "Just you wait until Professor Snape gets here, he'll put you in detention for the rest of your life!"

"Not if you're all out for the count," Harry said darkly, fingering his own wand.  Pansy took a step backwards.

Neville raised his arm again.  "Don't any of you ever, _ever_ talk about my parents again," he said through clenched teeth.

Ron, Hermione, and the others were all frowning in confusion.  Ron opened his mouth but shut it again upon seeing Harry's glare.

The Slytherins stood still, watching Neville's wand, which was still pointed at them.  His face was a thunderhead.

"Come on, Neville," said Harry.  "Let's go before someone comes."

Neville lowered his arm again, but his eyes continued to shoot daggers at the Slytherins until he turned and walked away.  Harry and the rest of their companions followed.  Gradually Harry caught up with Neville while a gap grew between them and the others.

"You know," Neville said flatly, staring straight ahead.

"Yeah," replied Harry.

Neville nodded.  "Okay."

They said nothing else as they climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.  Once they reached the common room, Neville went straight up the dormitory stairs and out of sight.

"What was _that_ about?" said Dean.

Harry turned to see everyone looking at him quizzically.  "Neville will tell us when he's ready," he said.

"Oh, come on," wheedled Seamus.  "He's already told you."

"He never told me anything," said Harry, "and I think it's pretty obvious that he doesn't want to discuss it, wouldn't you say?"

"I thought his parents were dead," mused Lavender.

"Well, don't talk about it around him," snapped Harry.  "You'll only make him feel worse."  He stalked off and plopped down on the sofa in front of the fire, which was popping and crackling merrily.

After a moment, Ron and Hermione came to join him.  "You are going to tell _us_, aren't you?" Ron asked quietly.  Harry shook his head.  "Why not?" Ron exclaimed.

"Because I promised," Harry said, and Ron wisely let the subject drop.

That night when he entered his room, Harry found that Neville was already in bed with his curtains closed.  Harry climbed into his own four-poster and drew the hangings closed around him.  He lay there in the dark, wondering what it was like to have parents who no longer recognized you.  Frank and Alice Longbottom had been Aurors; that's what Dumbledore had said.  Good ones too, by the sound of it; why else would Voldemort have picked them to torture into insanity?  When push came to shove, he and Neville weren't really so different, Harry realized.  They both had a lot to live up to, and they neither of them had parents – not really.  It had always looked like Neville would never become a competent wizard, much less a great one, but if he continued to show the backbone he'd showed tonight…

Whatever Neville turned out to be, Harry knew that he'd be cheering him on.


	20. A Visit from the Ministry

**A/N:** Here's yet another chapter!  Hopefully two in a row will make up for the two weeks without one.  Of course, the last chapter update never showed up on the main page – again!  (Shakes fist at ff.net)  Bah, it really ticks me off when I don't update all that often and then I don't even make it onto the Harry Potter page!  If anyone knows why this happens or how I can avoid it, please let me know.  (grumble grumble)  Umbridge is introduced in this chapter who, of course, is not my creation.  With all that being said, enjoy the installment.  It's longer than usual.  Let me know how you think I'm doing!  Your comments are always greatly appreciated! Chapter 20: A Visit from the Ministry 

Winter put Hogwarts in its icy clutches with the arrival of December.  The iron-gray sky constantly threatened snow during the day, and dark night fell early.  Students on their way to Herbology or Care of Magical Creatures bundled themselves up against the biting wind before venturing outside.  The trees were soon stripped of the last leaves that clung to their skeletal frames, and even the owls seemed disgruntled when they arrived each morning with the mail.

The storm that had been threatening to break came roaring in the day before the Hufflepuff-Slytherin Quidditch match.  No one felt too sorry for Slytherin, but everyone agreed that Hufflepuff had been dealt a rotten hand.  Even though it was snowing like mad and the wind was bitterly cold, none of the students were interested in missing the game, and the stands were as full as ever when Madam Hooch tossed up the Quaffle.

To everyone's surprise, Hufflepuff took the early lead, scoring three times before Slytherin managed to put one in.  Even in the blinding snow, the grim determination of the Hufflepuff team quickly became plain.  Their formations were tight, their passes flawless, and their Bludgers well aimed.  Slytherin, who had expected an easy win, suddenly found themselves being out-flown in every position.  It was a sublime delight for Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Gryffindor team to see Malfoy streaking around the stadium, frantically searching for the Snitch.  If he caught it early enough, Slytherin could win before Hufflepuff ground them into the field.

It was not to be.  In the torrent of flakes, neither team's Seeker seemed able to find the elusive ball.  Two cold hours passed before Cynthia Pennyworth closed her fingers on it, and that was only because it passed right in front of her nose.  The stadium erupted in cheers when Cynthia lifted her arm triumphantly above her head, and the Hufflepuff team drifted down to the pitch, hugging each other.  Malfoy threw his expensive Nimbus 2001 onto the frozen ground and stalked off the field.  Harry and Ron were shouting as loudly as any Hufflepuff, reveling in the bliss of the moment.

With Quidditch over with for the next several weeks, the students entered Yuletide mode.  Hagrid dragged six handsome firs into the Great Hall, and Professor Flitwick was put in charge of the decorations.  One day he held class in front of the pine trees, teaching the students how to make icicles that didn't melt and candles that wouldn't burn down.  Before long the Great Hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland, complete with trees covered in pinpricks of light that glittered like tiny, perfect stars.  They came in every color of the rainbow, and though the students pressed him, Flitwick refused to tell how he had managed it.

The rest of the professors were getting into the holiday spirit as well; several of them volunteered to help Flitwick decorate the Great Hall.  They floated ornaments onto the trees, magically wove garlands of pine and cranberries, and showered snow on everything like powdered sugar.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were doing some homework in the mostly-empty Great Hall between classes one day when Professor Thornby suddenly began to sing.  Harry's head jerked up in shock, but it was only a carol.  He had never heard her sing before.

"I saw three ships come sailing in, on Christmas Day, on Christmas Day…"

Bellaton immediately joined in.  "I saw three ships come sailing in, on Christmas Day in the morning."

Hagrid, who was lugging in a huge sack of pinecones, added a deep bass, and Professor Sprout and Professor McGonagall unexpectedly raised their voices, too.  Flitwick chimed in with a high tenor, and the scattered students in the Great Hall looked on in amazement.

"And what was in those ships all three, on Christmas Day, on Christmas Day?  And what was in those ships all three, on Christmas Day in the morning?"

They sounded good, with their voices covering several octaves between them.  Students passing by outside on their way to class stopped and began spilling into the hall to listen.  The professors sang on, oblivious, until they finished the last verse.

"Then let us all rejoice again, on Christmas Day, on Christmas Day, then let us all rejoice again, on Christmas Day in the morning!"

The students burst into applause.  The teachers' heads all whipped around as one to see them standing there.  Professor Sprout flushed as red as her poinsettias while Hagrid gruffly hemmed and hawed from under his beard, but Flitwick bowed atop his stool.

The Dueling Club continued to meet in the Great Hall, and Professors Thornby and Bellaton quickly learned to erect protective barriers around the decorations before the students began practicing.  One evening Dean cursed Parvati with the Full-Body Bind and she toppled right into the nearest tree, which felled two more of them like dominos.  Professor Flitwick found this all so funny that he didn't even seem to mind having to redo half of his work.

A general routine had been worked out for the Dueling Club; there were now three meetings a week, with the fourth and fifth years in one group and the sixth and seventh in another.  At each meeting, the students were quickly divided up into groups depending on their skill in whatever charm or move they were practicing.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione usually found themselves in the most advanced group, and so did Neville, although this stopped surprising people after a while.  The Dueling Club meetings were gold to Harry and Ron, who felt that with each perfected curse, they drew one step nearer to the profession of Auror.

Malfoy seemed especially irritated by Harry, Ron, and Hermione's skill with the staff.  The professors had not yet allowed them to cross swords, so to speak, but Malfoy watched the three of them with consternation as they went through the forms each week.  "I'll bet he's wondering how a Mudblood, a Weasley and his arch-enemy got to be so good at something he didn't think they knew," Hermione laughed one night as they left the Great Hall.

"Practice, the same as him," Ron said lightly.  "He just doesn't need to know _when_ we practiced."

As Christmas drew nearer so did end-of-term exams.  The fifth years' work load, which never really decreased, got even heavier as the tests approached.  Their professors were constantly reminding them that their performance on these tests was a good indicator of how they would perform on their O.W.L.s.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione hunkered down anew, and so did the rest of their classmates.  The library was full of fifth and seventh years, and the only sounds were the scratch of quills on parchment and the swish of turning pages.

In Astronomy they had begun studying the constellation Orion and its neighbors – Taurus the Bull, the Seven Sisters, Canis Major and Canis Minor.  Atop the Astronomy tower, wrapped tightly in heavy cloaks and scarves, the students pressed their eyes against the cold brass eyepieces of the telescopes and made their observations of the stars.  Sirius was a blue-white gem in Canis Major, rising low after Orion's distinct form, the brightest star in the sky.  Perhaps it was the stargazing, Harry found himself thinking about his godfather more and more as the days passed.  At least the rash of wizard murders seemed to have ended for the time being, and Sirius' name did not appear in the _Daily Prophet_ again, much to Harry's relief.  But it was hard not communicating for so long, and the home stretch seemed to go on forever.

Eventually Harry remembered that he could talk to Sirius by way of Professor Thornby.  One night he went up to his room early and enclosed himself in his four-poster with a candle, a heavy book, some parchment, quill and ink.  He leaned back against his pillows and tried to think of what to say; a lot had happened since he had last seen Sirius.  Harry didn't feel that he was very good at writing letters, so he settled for a raw summation of the last few months.

_Dear Sirius,_

_It's been a long time since I got to talk to you, so I thought I'd send a letter.  I don't know what you're up to, but I hope that Dumbledore is keeping you busy.  We're not supposed to talk about you at all.  McGonagall gave us a talking to after we saw your name in the paper.  That weasel Malfoy was watching me for a reaction.  If Voldemort's got a spy at Hogwarts, I'll bet he's it._

_Bellaton and Professor Thornby started up the Dueling Club, so me, Ron, and Hermione get to practice with the staff again.  I think we're getting pretty good at it.  The teachers are keeping us busy since we have O.W.L.s this year.  Ron wants to be an Auror too, and I think we just might make it.  We're doing a lot better in Potions especially.  It drives Snape mad having to give us high marks all the time._

_I had a falling out with Cho the day before the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw.  I don't think she's over Cedric yet.  We lost because Ron got knocked off his broom just as Cho and I both saw the Snitch, and I had to catch him.  He made Keeper, did you hear?  He's not half bad either.  Hufflepuff just beat Slytherin, so that was as good a day as they come._

_Well, I guess I can tell you about all this when I see you in two weeks.  Before you ask, I haven't been in any trouble.  The Marauders would disapprove, but I've had too much work to do to get into any.  Say hello to Remus for me._

_Happy Christmas, Harry_

Harry folded up the parchment and picked up the candle.  He smiled when he realized that it was bright green.  He tipped it carefully so that several drops of hot wax dripped onto the flap.  After waiting just a few seconds, he pulled the tip of his quill through the wax and drew a lightning bolt.  _Not a bad seal for Harry Potter_, he thought.  He tucked the letter into his History of Magic textbook, put the book under his pillow, and blew out the candle.

The next day Harry lingered after class under the pretext of wanting to ask Professor Thornby a question.  He pulled the letter out of his book and handed it to her; she smiled when she saw the seal.  "I'll drop it off today," she said softly, and tucked it into her own weighty copy of _A History of Magical Conflict._

**********

Just a week before the start of the holidays, Dumbledore announced that there would be a trip to Hogsmeade on the coming Saturday.  The students absorbed this news with great enthusiasm.  Since the attack on the town that past summer there had been no scheduled visits from the school, and it had felt odd never to have a weekend in town.

At breakfast on the morning before the Hogsmeade visit, a gray, half-dead owl crash-landed in front of Ron.  "Errol!" he exclaimed, untying a sealed envelope from the poor bird's foot.  "I thought you were going to be retired."

"Letter from mum?" said Fred.

"Yeah, it's for all of us," said Ron.

"Budge up then, let's see," said George.  "Ginny, letter from mum!"

The redheaded Weasleys leaned over Ron's shoulder to read the parchment.  As their eyes moved down the page, their faces began to darken.  By the time they finished, all four of them were frowning.

"Git," said George.

"Prat," added Fred.

"Traitor," Ron said flatly.  Ginny alone refrained from comment, a thoughtful look on her face.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"Read it."  Ron passed her the letter.  Harry looked down at it, and saw that it was not from Mrs. Weasley, but from Mr. Weasley instead.

_Dear Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny,_

_By now you've surely heard about your upcoming trip to Hogsmeade.  This isn't just an impromptu trip – a delegation is coming from the Ministry to inspect the school while you are out.  I don't know if Dumbledore has seen fit to tell you, but it's up to him.  If he hasn't mentioned it, then you shouldn't either._

_I am writing to caution you about the people who will be coming.  Minister Fudge, Lucius Malfoy, Dolores Umbridge, and several others will be there.  You should avoid everyone in the party; the Minister is surrounding himself with sycophants and flatterers, and Umbridge is as ambitious and scheming as they come._

_And now the last… I'm not even sure of how to say this.  Percy will be in the delegation.  He has been promoted to the position of Secretary to the Minister and has since moved out of the Burrow.  We no longer see eye-to-eye on anything.  I have tried to reason with him but he won't believe that he is being used.  This whole business has broken your mother's heart.  It pains me to say it, but you must be very careful around your brother from now on.  Whatever you say to him, Minister Fudge will hear._

_Be on your best behavior while the Ministry is at the school.  Anything out of line will reflect poorly on Dumbledore.  I don't think I need to remind you that the Ministry would need little excuse to try and oust him.  I am sorry to have only unpleasant things to say, but that seems to be the way things are going at the moment.  Your mother sends her love to you, Harry, and Hermione, and we are looking forward to seeing you all at Christmas._

_Love, Dad_

Harry and Hermione looked sadly down at the letter.  Mr. Weasley's hand was unsteady in the paragraph about Percy.  Harry was willing to bet that it wasn't just Mrs. Weasley's heart that was broken.

As it turned out, Dumbledore did see fit to tell the school that the Ministry was coming.  That night at dinner he made the announcement.  The students all seemed confused about the sudden news, but few of them seemed to think that it showed anything more than the Ministry's desire to ensure that they were being properly educated.  The professors clearly knew otherwise; one and all, they were stone-faced as Dumbledore spoke.  But by the next day, hardly any of the students seemed concerned about the Ministry delegation.  There was a fresh coat of snow on the ground, the sun was shining brightly, and they were going to Hogsmeade!

When the hour of departure drew near, Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned up in the Great Hall with the rest of the students who were allowed to go to the village.  Everyone was laughing and talking about what they were going to buy.  As they stood there waiting, the Ministry officials entered the hall through a side door.  Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys watched silently as the group approached the staff table where several of the Hogwarts professors were waiting.  There was Fudge in his lime green bowler and Lucius Malfoy in black with silver trim, his long, white hair gathered in a neat ponytail.  They recognized Macnair, the Death Eater who had come to execute Buckbeak two years ago.  Percy was walking close to the Minister of Magic, his flaming red hair making him easily visible.  He never once glanced in the direction of the students.  Perhaps it was just as well, because Fred, George, and Ron were all glowering fiercely at him.

One other official in particular stood out.  There was a woman dressed all in pink with a frilly bow perched atop her bleach-blonde curls.  Her body was short and squat, and so was her bizarre face.  Her extraordinarily wide mouth furthered Harry's impression that he was looking at a toad that had been enlarged to almost-human size.  Whenever Fudge said anything, she simpered and smirked in a sickening fashion.

"Who's the toad woman?" Ron whispered to George.

"That's Umbridge, I think," he replied.  "Alicia's dad works at the Ministry, and that's what he says she looks like."

Professor Thornby, Flitwick, and Hagrid were bringing up the rear of the group.  They were all dressed as if they were ready to go outdoors.  At a word from Malfoy, they turned and walked toward the large group of students.  At the same time, professors McGonagall, Sinistra, and Snape got up from the staff table.  The Ministry group turned and walked out the side door again while the professors followed.

Flitwick, Hagrid, and Professor Thornby led the students out of the castle to an army of waiting sleighs.  After they had all clambered in, the sleighs started forward of their own accord, bearing them across the grounds and down the road to Hogsmeade.  The trip was quick; only minutes later, the village slid into view.

Harry had no idea what the village had looked like after the summer's battle, but it was clear that some things had changed.  Here and there, a neatly sawed-off stump sat where a great tree had once grown.  The building that housed Honeydukes was completely new, but others had not been replaced yet.  They passed more than one building that was still under construction.  Still, there were no piles of rubble and no scorch marks on any of the buildings; Christmas decorations were hanging everywhere, and the atmosphere was festive.

It seemed like all the students were making a beeline for Honeydukes, so Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed off in the opposite direction.  They went to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop for new quills, ink, and parchment, and while Hermione wasn't looking, Harry bought a handsome eagle feather quill ("never needs sharpening") and pots of gold and silver ink for her Christmas gift.

They went to Gladrags Wizard Wear where the Ron had his school robe lengthened.  At Dervish and Banges, they exclaimed over a handsome array of Wizards' Chess sets and magical Christmas ornaments of every sort.  There were candy canes that wriggled when licked, glass baubles for the tree that glowed with an inner light, and miniature snowmen made out of real snow that sang carols incessantly.  Harry was most impressed by the self-winding music boxes.  Instead of the usual tinkling, they emitted the sounds of a full orchestra when opened.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent the whole afternoon tramping around the village, stocking up on Honeydukes chocolates and party crackers from Zonko's.  When Harry looked down at his watch, it was hard to believe how much time had passed.  They had just enough time to buy a butterbeer apiece at the Three Broomsticks before returning to the sleighs.  Harry was sorry that they hadn't had more time in Madam Rosmerta's brightly lit shop, but it was fun to drink the hot butterbeer while they rode back to the castle in the cold.

When the shivering students arrived back at the school, they found that the Ministry delegation had already departed.  That was fine with Harry and his friends, who had no desire to be monitored by Fudge, Malfoy, or anyone else in the group.  They sat down to a welcome meal in the Great Hall, tired after tramping around Hogsmeade all day in the snow.  Harry hadn't noticed how much his shoulders were aching until now, when the warmth from the hot food began seeping into his chilled body.

When supper was over, the students all rose to leave, but Dumbledore forestalled the Gryffindors.  "I am afraid," he said, "that Peeves has managed to booby-trap the main routes back to your dormitory.  We are working on diffusing them, but in the meantime, you will have to take an alternate route that is not very straightforward.  Professor Snape will escort you."

Snape strode up to their table, full of his usual bad humor.  "Keep up with me, all of you," he said icily.  "If you dawdle into one of Peeves' little jokes, I am not coming back for you.  And trust me, you might never be seen again."

"Why isn't Professor McGonagall taking us?" called a third year.

"Because she is busy and I am not," Snape snapped, and no one asked any more questions.

The Houses set off in all different directions.  Dumbledore had been right; they were going the roundabout way, as Snape first led them down the stairs toward the dungeons, down a long hallway, and up a set of stairs on the other side of the castle.  It wasn't long before they saw exactly how busy Professor McGonagall was; she and several other professors were in the center of the castle near the moving staircases, looking for the jinxes and hexes that Peeves had left behind.  Yellow paint was splattered all over the walls, Professor Sinistra was half-sunken in a new trick step, and a thorny hedge had sprung up at the top of the stairs.  "That poltergeist has gone too far this time!" they heard Professor McGonagall growl as they passed on another staircase across the way.

 Seamus started up a lively conversation about the Hufflepuff-Slytherin match, which was still a favorite topic among the Gryffindors.  Somewhere along the way the topic changed to the English Quidditch teams, and before long half the nearby boys were arguing heatedly about which team was the best, Ron included.  Harry didn't have a team he supported, so he left them behind in search of Hermione.  He found her at the very front of the column, walking perilously close to Snape.  She was oblivious to Snape's proximity, as her nose was in a new book she'd bought that afternoon.

"Good book?" Harry asked, falling into step beside her.

"Oh, yes!" she exclaimed, looking up at Harry with shining eyes.  "It's all about the invention of magical products.  Right now I'm reading about the development of Flesh-Eating Slug Repellant.  It's really quite fascinating."

Harry gave her an incredulous look.  Snape looked back at her over his shoulder and did the same.  "Miss Granger, it is possible that you enjoy even duller topics than Professor Binns did."

Hermione looked up, startled.  She opened her mouth to reply, but Snape suddenly jerked his head back around to face forward.

"Stop!" he shouted, throwing his arm out to the side to bar their way.  His voice cut through the conversations, and everyone stopped dead in their tracks.  Silence filled the hallway.  For a long moment, Gryffindor House stood frozen, listening.

Then everything seemed to happen at once.

A suit of armor against the corridor wall raised its sword and lunged at Harry and Hermione so quickly that Harry had no chance to shout.  Snape threw himself at them; the world spun crazily and Harry felt himself slam sideways into something solid.  His head struck, and he saw spots.  He shook his head to clear his vision, and found that he and Hermione sat alone in a heap on the floor.  Harry barely had time to wonder what he had run into when Hermione screamed.  The suit of armor was rushing toward them, one gauntleted fist raised high to strike.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!"  The spell flashed past their faces and struck the animated knight.  Its legs ceased moving but momentum carried it forward.  Harry and Hermione scrambled sideways, and the frozen figure struck an invisible barrier and bounced off.  It crashed across the flagstones and skidded to a halt.

Snape lowered his wand and leaned his shoulder against the stone wall of the corridor.  His other hand gripped the hilt of the sword that was now protruding from his chest.  A few inches of red-stained steel stood out from his back.

Thunderstruck, Harry stared at his least favorite teacher clutching the sword through his middle.  He was aware of only a few things – the panicked thudding of his heart, Hermione's painful grip on his arm, and the dark stain spreading across Professor Snape's robes.

Harry and Hermione were freed of their paralysis when their teacher's legs gave way.  He slid down the wall and they rushed to his side.  Harry carefully removed Snape's hand from the sword.  Breaking his grip was almost effortless.  "Someone get Dumbledore," Harry said, his voice rising unnaturally.  "Someone get –"

He broke off as Hermione laid a hand on his arm.  She was staring past his shoulder.  Harry twisted to look behind him, and his heart sank.  Their fellow Gryffindors stood a few feet away behind the invisible barrier.  Some of them were feeling its surface with their hands; the others were simply staring in horror.  Dean Thomas stood near the front of the crowd, and his gaze locked with Harry's.

"Dean, can you hear me?" Harry asked.

Dean's mouth moved, but Harry heard nothing.

DUMBLEDORE, Harry mouthed as clearly as possible.

Dean nodded and pointed back the way they had come.  RON, he mouthed back.

Harry nodded, and gestured broadly to indicate the barrier.  Dean shook his head.

"They can't get through," Hermione said quietly.

Snape coughed, and they both looked at him.  "It's a Stasis Wall," he said thickly.  "You can only open them from the inside.  I think you can manage it, Miss Granger."

Hermione threw a helpless look at Harry.  All he could do was shake his head; they neither of them knew what to do.

Snape spoke up again.  "It's a woven spell.  You have to find the knot and unravel it.  _Carceris Renere_.  And you, Potter, must remove this sword."  He broke off, gasping.  Even without all the blood, the lack of venom in Snape's voice would have been enough to tell Harry just how badly hurt he was.

Hermione stood on unsteady legs, but her face was set with determination as she walked to the invisible wall.  She drew her wand and commanded, "_Carceris Renere!_"  Her hand was suddenly ensnared in silvery threads.  She set her feet and quickly began snapping them, one after another.

Harry looked back to the Potions master.  Whatever Snape thought of Harry trying to help him didn't show in his inscrutable gaze, but his pain was obvious.  Harry raised his wand.

Snape set his jaw.  "Do it," he said through gritted teeth.

Harry nodded with more confidence than he felt.  "_Exhaustum Sword!"_

The sword hilt moved toward Harry.  Snape let out a cry of aguish that went on and on, echoing in the corridor.  Harry's kept his wand steady on the sword, drawing it smoothly out as quickly as he dared.

Snape's shouts choked off as the steel finally left his body, and he collapsed from his half-sitting position onto the floor.  The sword hung suspended between him and Harry, glistening wet and crimson.  Harry reached forward to take the hilt and felt it sink heavily into his hand, ending the spell.  Hastily he set it aside and leaned forward to look at Snape.  Black eyes glittered up at him from an ashen face that was covered in a fine sheen of sweat.  A drop of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.  "Well done, Potter," he whispered.  "Ten points to Gryffindor."  For a moment his mouth twitched as if he wanted to smile, but it faltered and his eyes drifted shut.

Harry's pulse raced with panic.  He jerked his head around to see Hermione frantically ripping at the silver threads that tangled her fingers and wand.  The wall was no longer clear, but was full of white cracks that spiderwebbed across it.  Sounds were passing through it from the students on the other side, growing louder by the moment.  Dean and the others looked fearfully from Snape to the corridor behind them, watching for approaching help.

Harry looked back to Snape.  His breathing was very shallow now.  "Professor!" he shouted, shaking his shoulder.  "Wake up!"  Nothing.  The trickle of blood slid from the corner of Snape's mouth and down his cheek, a brilliant streak of red against too-pale skin.  Harry put his fingers against the side of Snape's neck and felt a pulse that was weak and fading.

A shout from the other side of the cracking barrier drew his attention.  He could see a group of people moving down the corridor toward them.  Ron was in the front, with Dumbledore and what seemed like most of the Hogwarts professors right behind.  All of them were coming at a dead run.

Harry knew they weren't going to make it.  Snape was bleeding out all over the floor; Harry's knees were already in the puddle.  He desperately wondered what to do, and something clicked in his mind, a memory from nowhere.  Time slowed to a crawl.  Harry leaned forward and placed his hand flat against Snape's bloodstained chest.  His other hand clutched his wand tightly.  He heard the words he spoke, felt his mouth move as if of its own accord.

_"Donum Vitae!"_

Blue light flared, filling Harry's vision, surrounding him and Professor Snape.  Snape's eyes flew open and caught Harry's.  His hand seized Harry's wrist as if he meant to pull his hand from his chest, but he didn't have the strength to move it.  Harry felt warmth spreading through him.  It was the most peaceful, amazing sensation; even though he could feel his own energy ebbing away, he had never felt so alive.  It was incredible – except for Snape's terrified eyes silently willing him to let go…

Harry fell backwards onto the stone floor with a hard slap.  Dumbledore looked blurry as he swept forward to stoop over Snape's body.  Harry turned his head and saw Ron and Hermione kneeling by his side, smiling tremulously.  The other students behind them stared as if they had never seen him before.  Harry's world seemed to be graying around the edges.  Professor Bellaton's face looked down at him, and Harry felt his body floating up from the floor, one of Bellaton's hands gently grasping his arm.  "Damn you self-sacrificing Gryffindors," the big man said fondly.  Everything went dark.

**********

Harry yawned and rolled over in bed.  He opened his eyes briefly.  It was pitch-dark, except for the candle burning at his bedside and the moon shining in through the stained-glass windows of the hospital wing.  Harry snuggled into his pillow, and closed his eyes.  He had been in the middle of such a nice dream...

_Hospital wing?_  Harry sat bolt upright, remembering everything.  On his left, a vase of yellow roses stood next to the candle on the bedside table.  On his right, Ron lay sprawled on a red velvet sofa that had been magicked there.  His mouth was slightly open and he was snoring softly.

Harry scanned the other beds, looking for one that was occupied.  There!  In a twinkling he was out of bed and running to the far end of the hospital wing, the flagstones cold beneath his bare feet.  Harry slowed as he approached.  It was Snape, lying on his back, carefully tucked in beneath crisp white sheets.  In the moonlight he still looked very pale, but then again, he was always pale.  He was still breathing.

Ron's sudden appearance at his side made Harry jump.  "Ron!  You scared me," he said, pressing a hand to his fluttering heart.

"Sorry, mate," Ron said, grinning.  He held out Harry's glasses.  "You okay, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry said, taking the offering.  "Thanks.  How long have I been asleep?"

"About a day and a half.  Madam Pomfrey said you'd be out for awhile after casting that spell."  Ron looked curiously at his friend.  "Where did you learn how to do that?" he asked.  "Everybody's talking about it."

Harry frowned, staring straight ahead at nothing in particular.  "No one taught me how to do it," he said, "but Professor Thornby cast it on me this summer when I was still poisoned.  I didn't really know what I was doing.  It was like a part of me knew how and the rest just sort of followed along."

"Blimey."  Ron bit his lip and looked cautiously at his friend.  "You know what that sounds like?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, you're a Parselmouth because You-Know... um... I mean... Voldemort... was a Parselmouth.  Right?"

"Yes..." Harry said slowly.

"And you got that way because he used _Avada Kedavra_ on you, and that's a really powerful spell.  It sounds like _Donum Vitae_ is kind of like the opposite of that."

Harry looked at Ron.  "Wow.  That's brilliant!  You could be right."

Ron grinned proudly.  "I wonder if you learned to do anything else when she cast it?"

Harry's eyes widened.  "I... I don't know," he said.  "Is Snape going to be all right?"

"Dumbledore think so, thanks to you," Ron said.  "He put him in some kind of a deep sleep, and Madam Pomfrey's been working on him.  Bellaton is brewing up something to help him along."

"Do you know," said Harry, peering down at Snape, "I think they washed his hair!"  He and Ron looked at each other.  Grins twitched on their faces, and before long they were both sniggering behind their hands.

"What could possibly be funny?" a voice hissed behind them.

Harry and Ron whirled to face Madam Pomfrey.  Ron sagged with relief, and Harry knew how he felt.  Madam Pomfrey had sounded so much like Snape just then that for an instant, he had forgotten that the Potions master was out for the count right in front of him.

"Um... we were just checking on Sleeping Beauty here, and…" Ron began.  He and Harry both dissolved into choking laughter.

Madam Pomfrey looked skyward in exasperation.  "Well, I'm glad you're feeling better, Mr. Potter.  A little sleep was all you needed, but I can't have you disturbing Professor Snape.  Get on back to your dormitory, now," she said, shooing them off.

They left the hospital wing and headed off toward the Gryffindor common room.  "You're the center of attention again," Ron whispered as they headed up a staircase.  "There was no way to keep this from getting out.  It's been all over the _Daily Prophet_."

Harry looked cautiously at his friend, but Ron's face betrayed no hint of jealousy.  "Dumbledore says it was a setup," Ron continued.  "Someone from the Ministry's delegation set the booby-trap in the main hallway.  Peeves denied having anything to do with it, and he always takes credit for his pranks.  And then they set the Stasis Wall trap in the other hallway, and it tripped when the right person walked through it."

"When who walked through it?" Harry said.  "Was it me, or Hermione, or Snape?  What about someone else?"

"I don't think anyone knows yet," Ron said, "but it was meant to kill whoever tripped it.  This might have something to do with Trelawney's prophecy, you know."

"Well, that explains how either Hermione or I could have been the target, but what about Snape?"  Harry whispered.

"Maybe Voldemort found out that he's a double agent," Ron said, lowering his voice to the barest of whispers.  "He'd want him dead for sure."

"But once he'd been stabbed, the suit of armor came back for me and Hermione," Harry said.

"Maybe it thought he was done for and just figured to knock you off for fun," Ron said.

"This has to be Voldemort's work," Harry spat.  "I can't see Fudge pulling a stunt like this."

Ron shook his head.  "It's complicated.  Whoever set the trap could have been under Fudge's orders or under Voldemort's.  There were both kinds of people in the Ministry delegation.  All I know for sure is that it wasn't Percy.  He may be the most selfish git ever, but he wouldn't do something like that.  Not willingly, anyway."

Harry sighed.  "At least we're all still alive."

Ron grinned.  "That was a bloody brilliant piece of work, Harry," he said.  "Hermione's, too.  All I did was run for help, but Professor McGonagall says the three of us do Gryffindor proud."

Harry grinned back.


	21. False Fronts

**A/N: **Wow!  Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!  If I sound a bit like a schoolgirl, it's just because I'm so excited that people liked the story.  (Sometimes it's just nice to know that someone _read_ your work, that's all.)

Mad-Mary-Flint-86: You're welcome for reviewing your story, and thanks for checking out mine!  I hope you update soon, your story was really funny.  :-)  I put a little shout-out to it in this chapter.

Susan B: I appreciate the heads-up about the Singers.  I've never read anything by either author that you mentioned.  Thanks for the encouragement, and it was nice of you to review twice!

Demon Dracona: I'm glad you enjoyed it!

Lady Cinnibar: Yeah, canon was a _very_ bitter pill.  Long live Sirius!

chuckleseviltroll312: Thanks for the encouragement!

Kaye: Thanks for all your kind words!

Wytil: Ha, ha!  1: Trips Stasis Wall.  2: Trips fireball.  3: Trips rotating knives.  We could go on forever…

Jedi Buttercup: You're right, the story is AU.  I hadn't really thought about it, because I tend to think of "AU" as meaning something really far out and displaced from the regular Harry Potter world.  I'm glad you found the story so engrossing!

kira lingh: Thank you very much!

Wolfia: I know… poor, poor Severus.  He's a tough one, though.

Chapter 21: False Fronts

The aftermath of the attack on Harry, Hermione, and Snape was grim.  The Christmas spirit that had permeated the school had almost completely vanished.  Professor McGonagall was not pleased that Harry and Ron had walked from the hospital wing to Gryffindor Tower alone in the dead of night.  Even though they had made it back in one piece, the staff was still scouring the school for remaining traps.  Until they were satisfied that the hallways were safe, no student was allowed to go anywhere without a teacher.  They were escorted to and from their lessons, meals, and dormitories.  They weren't even allowed to go off to the library alone.

Ron had been right – Harry and his spell were the hottest topics of conversation.  It seemed that everybody wanted to know where he had learned it, especially since he had lived with Muggles for the first eleven years of his life.  That meant that someone had taught him or he'd read it in a book.  There were no teachers who showed Harry obvious favoritism, so some of the more determined students combed the library for any information on _Donum Vitae_, to Madam Pince's irritation.  All they were able to discover was what Harry, Ron, and Hermione already knew – that it was no longer taught in any magical school, and that it usually killed the caster.  When this last fact became known, Harry began to see some of the underclassmen watching him with awe, as if he'd done something superhuman.

Harry himself wasn't quite sure why he had let go.  Now that he had experienced _Donum Vitae_, he understood why so many witches and wizards had died while using it.  It had been the most sublime feeling he had ever known, as if he were filling with life instead of having it drained out of him.  Had he let go of his own free will, or had he simply been so tired that he collapsed?  Harry wished he knew the answer.

The reporters at the _Daily Prophet_ had decided that Harry's survival was the result of skill, not exhaustion.  Suddenly he was the Boy Wonder again.  Ron showed him the article that had come out while he was still asleep.  "Valiant", "noble", and "selfless" were just a few of the more colorful adjectives used to describe him.  It all made Harry feel rather annoyed.  After all, he'd only done what anyone with a beating heart should have done – everything they could do for their fellow man, even if they despised him.

The members of the Ministry delegation to Hogwarts were under intense scrutiny by _Daily Prophet_ reporters.  It was clear from the articles that they were trying to discover whether anyone had slipped off from the main group at any time, but they got nowhere.  The Ministry's theory was that someone else had done it, anyone other than someone from the delegation.  Their wild accusations named Peeves, any of the teachers, a Dark wizard who snuck in, or one of the students.  Even Snape was not spared; Fudge went so far as to say that the Potions master had set the trap and had wound up getting caught in it himself.  No one at Hogwarts was buying any of it, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione suspected that the rest of the magical world wasn't either.  It was simply too much of a coincidence for the perpetrator _not_ to be part of the Ministry group.  The whole thing put Fudge in a very bad light, and Harry wasn't sorry to see it.

Hermione was experiencing publicity for the very first time, and she didn't enjoy it any more than Harry did.  Plaudits were heaped upon her for her success with _Carceris Renere_; if she hadn't managed it, even _Donum Vitae_ wouldn't have saved Snape from bleeding to death.  Yet it wasn't her witchcraft that drew the most attention – it was the fact that she could have been the person that the trap was set for, and there was great speculation as to why.  Everyone knew that someone was always trying to kill Harry, and Snape certainly had lots of enemies, but why would anyone want Hermione dead?  The _Daily Prophet _came up with a theory, and it involved Professor Trelawney's prophecy - naturally.  Harry wished with all his heart that everyone would just forget about the dratted thing.  He thought he could almost bear the limelight if only they would leave that prophecy alone.

Ron alone escaped all the media attention, but neither he nor his friends were surprised.  Even though he'd been pegged as a part of the prophecy, he hadn't been trapped in the invisible box.  Harry and Hermione assured him that he shouldn't want to have been there, but Ron seemed to think that he'd missed out on something.

"Once again, you two have an adventure without me," he said.  "First, Hermione has the nightmare of her life and asks for Harry.  Then the two of you get to save Professor Snape's life."

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione scoffed.  "We've been over the dream already, you know why I needed to see Harry.  And we weren't being brave in that trap – we were scared stiff.  I only knew what to do because Snape told me."

"And I just ran on instinct," Harry said.  "I would have thought that falling off your broom would have been enough excitement for you."

"Well, that was Ravenclaw's doing, not Voldemort's," said Ron.  "It's not that I want to be in danger, it's just that… well, I want to help, you know?"

"But you did help," Hermione said.  "You found Dumbledore."

"Actually, it happened the other way around," said Ron.  "I was probably halfway there when he found me – him and half of the professors.  They were already on their way.  I meant to ask Dumbledore how he knew, but in all the excitement, I forgot."

"Was Professor Thornby there when you found Dumbledore?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, but –"

"There's your answer – she knew that Harry was in danger and came looking for him."

Harry's eyes widened.  He had completely forgotten that she was supposed to be able to sense when he was being threatened.  The suit of armor _had_ tried to attack him, but he'd been too focused on the situation to notice her coming closer.  "Maybe we could ask her if that's the way it happened," he mused.

As it turned out, Professor Thornby sent for Harry before he had a chance to bring up the subject.  Professor McGonagall came to fetch him from the library one night while he, Ron, and Hermione were studying, and walked him to his guardian's office.  When they entered, she was seated behind a heavy, dark-paneled desk.  There was little embellishment in the room, but there was an armchair for visitors, an enameled tea set, and a rosebush in the corner just like the one in her classroom.

"Thank you, Minerva," said Professor Thornby, smiling and rising from her chair.

"Not at all," Professor McGonagall replied.  "Just let me know when you're through."

"You understand why I couldn't come for you myself," Professor Thornby said as the door closed.  "Merlin, but I hate all this secrecy.  Sometimes I would just rather the world knew what I was really doing here."

"But you're really teaching, too," Harry said.  "And then there's the Dueling Club."

"True," she said, "but I wouldn't be here at all if it weren't for you.  Have a seat."  Harry sat down in the armchair.  "Tea?" she said, proffering a teacup.  "It's a very nice Earl Grey."  Harry didn't really want any, but felt it would be rude to refuse, and accepted the cup.

"I suppose you know why I wanted to talk to you," said Professor Thornby, her expression becoming graver.  "I certainly never expected you to use _Donum Vitae_.  Harry, I must know – why did you decide to learn it?  I thought you had been sufficiently warned."

Harry stared at her.  "I didn't decide anything," he said.  "I just knew it."

"You're being serious?" she said uncertainly.

"Yeah," said Harry, nodding for emphasis.  "I was just kneeling there panicking, and all of a sudden I knew what to do.  It felt like… _remembering_ how."  Professor Thornby stood up and moved to stand beside the window.  She crossed her arms and looked out over the grounds, frowning.  "Ron had the idea that I'd learned it from you," Harry continued cautiously.  He told her everything Ron had said, including the bit about the Killing Curse and _Donum Vitae_.

Professor Thornby smiled wryly.  "From what I hear, your friend has been doing some serious growing up this year," she said.  "First his marks, then making Keeper, and now this."

"Then he's right?" asked Harry.

"I can think of no other explanation, unless Voldemort knew _Donum Vitae_ and you learned it from him," she said.  "And Ron's not too far off about the two spells, either.  They're not truly opposites, magically speaking, but they are both very powerful.  _Donum Vitae_ can be every bit as potent as _Avada Kedavra_.  In any case, if you got it from me, other signs should show up, given time."

"Like Singing?" said Harry.

Professor Thornby gave him a very serious look.  "It's possible," she said.  "You were not born a Parseltongue, and that is not a learnable skill.  Either you can do it or you can't.  Harry, I have never heard of anyone gaining inborn skills from someone before, not even because of _Donum Vitae_.  But then, no one has ever survived _Avada Kedavra_ before, and that makes you a very special case.  If you _have_ become a Singer, then it will manifest itself sporadically someday.  Be careful if you sing or hum around other people; you wouldn't want that talent to become common knowledge, believe me.

"I was afraid for you," Professor Thornby said, turning back to the window.  "I knew you were in trouble, but I didn't know how much until we got close.  I could feel your life draining away.  _Donum Vitae_ put you in more danger than the trap ever did.  You're fortunate that you let go when you did."

Harry bristled at the implied criticism.  "What would you have had me do?" he said sharply.  "Just let Snape die?"

"No," she continued.  "I don't think you did the wrong thing at all.  I just couldn't do anything about it – all I could do was watch, and feel useless.  But you handled things well."

There was a pause.  Professor Thornby shook her head and turned back to Harry.  "Well, I won't keep you any longer, then.  I've heard what I needed to know."  She reached into a clay pot near the fireplace, pulled out a handful of Floo powder, and tossed it into the flames.  "Minerva, it's time," she said, and moments later there was a knock on the door.

Harry was just about to leave when a question occurred to him.  "What house were you in?" he asked abruptly.

Professor Thornby stiffened.  "Slytherin," she said, staring into Harry's eyes.

Harry's blood ran cold.  His expression must have been something, because Professor Thornby winced slightly.  "Good night, Harry, Minerva," she said softly, and closed the door between them.

"Come on, Potter.  Back to the library with you," said Professor McGonagall, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Harry moved forward automatically, not really paying attention to where he was going.  "Slytherin?" he repeated dazedly.

Professor McGonagall frowned at him.  "Potter, you have got to stop thinking of Slytherin as the enemy.  Ambitious people are not necessarily evil."

"She could have told me sooner," Harry said bitterly.

"She probably didn't because she knew how you'd react," retorted Professor McGonagall.  "She told me herself that without her ambition, she would never have become the person she is today.  She would have wasted away to nothing after her family was killed.  People can have more than one quality that defines them!" she exclaimed when Harry was unresponsive.  "Look at yourself – the Sorting Hat very nearly put you in Slytherin, did it not?  You're the pot calling the kettle black."

Back in the library, Harry lost no time in relating the conversation to Ron and Hermione, including the news about Professor Thornby's House.  Ron reacted in much the same way that Harry had, but Hermione was nonplussed.

"So?" she said.  "The Slytherins aren't all bad."

"You sound like Professor McGonagall," said Harry.

"Better to sound like her than you," scoffed Hermione.  "You're acting like a bigot."

"Now hold on a minute!" Harry began.

"No, _you_ hold on a minute," she said firmly, keeping her voice low.  "Hasn't Professor Thornby proved herself to you yet?  She almost _died_ trying to keep you alive this summer, and you _know_ she's on your side because of this whole guardian-connection thing.  I'd think you could afford to give her the benefit of the doubt."

"Rrrgh!" Harry growled, scrubbing one hand through his hair.  "You're right, I know it, you're always right.  I don't think she's the enemy, I just… I think she should have told me long ago!"

Even Hermione couldn't disagree with that.

**********

The Slytherins were downcast for days.  It was well known that Snape's condition was still quite delicate; the sword had gone all the way through him, and he'd lost quite a lot of blood before Hermione took down the Stasis Wall.  It wasn't until the middle of the week that Madam Pomfrey knew that he would live, and said she expected him to make a full recovery.  None of the Slytherins said anything, but Harry's actions seemed to have produced an uneasy truce between Gryffindor and its rival.  Harry supposed that even the Slytherins couldn't find an excuse to fight when two of their enemies had saved the life of their Head of House.

Even though they were preoccupied with Snape's well-being, the Slytherins still had to take their term exams like everyone else.  Harry had recovered from _Donum Vitae _just in time for his first test – Herbology.  He was lucky that he had already spent time studying for it, as Hermione was quick to point out.  "Aren't you glad you prepared early?" she said.  "You lost all your last-minute studying time."

The exams weren't nearly as bad as Harry had expected.  In Herbology they had to demonstrate the proper technique of caring for a Snapdragon and list the seven potions in which it was used.  The Astronomy exam consisted of filling out a star chart and identifying the constellations.  Defense Against the Dark Arts was a practical exam, in which Bellaton flung curses and hexes at each student one by one while they tried to deflect them.  Even Potions went well; the antidote they had to make was complicated, but with Dumbledore presiding instead of Snape, Harry felt quite at ease the whole time.  The only exam that was a complete debacle was Divination.  The students divided up into partners, put themselves into trances, and read each others' auras.  At least, that's what they were supposed to do, but half the class never approached the level of hypnosis required and had to resort to making things up as usual.

Even though the exams went much more smoothly for Harry than usual, he was still relieved when he finished the last test.  Ron admitted that they had gone well for him too, and though Hermione never said "I told you so", it was written all over her face.

"Christmas holidays at last!" Ron sighed that night as he packed up his trunk.  "I suppose all our hard work's going to pay off in the end, but I need a good long rest before I can face the next term."

Since Harry was going to spend Christmas at Alverbrooke, there was no reason for Ron or Hermione to stay at the school.  "It'll be more fun being home anyway," said Hermione.  "Everyone's been so gloomy around here lately."

"Maybe we can see each other over the holiday," Harry suggested hopefully.  "I'm looking forward to seeing Sirius and Lupin, but it'll be weird not spending the time here with you, having the castle all to ourselves…"

"We wouldn't have it to ourselves this year anyway," said Ron.  "The professors are still looking for booby traps, remember?"

"I guess I'm lucky that I have someplace to go then," said Harry.

"You know you're always welcome at the Burrow," said Ron.  "I think that mum practically sees you as one of us now."

Harry was pleased.  "Really?" he said.  "Well, she's behaved more like a mother to me than Aunt Petunia ever did.  And you can tell her that if you want to."

"If I tell her, you'll be on the family clock before you know it," Ron laughed.

A tapping at the window interrupted them.  Harry opened the window to find two owls outside – Hedwig and a small, mottled bird that he recognized as a Little Owl.  Hedwig bore a package.

"Two owls, and at night?" said Hermione.

"Who's the package from?" asked Ron.

"It's… from the Dursleys," Harry said in disbelief.  "I wrote to say I wouldn't be coming back to Privet Drive for Christmas.  I do it every year."

"Go on, open it!" Ron urged.

Harry pulled off the brown paper to reveal a box of Swiss chocolates.  Attached was a small card that read, "Happy Christmas from Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley".

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stared at the box.  "What did they send you last year?" said Hermione.  "A pair of socks?"

"Something like that," said Harry.  "But the Dursleys would send one instead of a pair."

"Looks like they feel bad for almost killing you," Ron snorted.

"Frankly, I'm surprised they cared at all," Harry said dryly.  "I'm an inconvenience to them and nothing more."

"Well, the candy looks good," said Ron.  "Mind if I have one?"

"Help yourself," said Harry, proffering the box.  Ron reached in and pulled out a dark chocolate.

"Wait!" cried Hermione.  "What if it's _poisoned_?"

Ron closed his mouth and put down the candy.

"Hermione, they didn't mean to poison me," Harry said.  "They wouldn't send me something like that."

"That's not what I meant," she said anxiously.  "What if it's not from the Dursleys at all?"

"_There's_ a thought," said Ron.

"I don't think so," said Harry.  "Hedwig brought it, and I sent her to them."

Hermione shook her head.  "But the gift is odd, isn't it?  And it sounds to me like the Dursleys are the kind of people who could definitely be fooled twice."

"Well, maybe we'd better play it safe then," said Harry.  He put Ron's uneaten chocolate back and tucked the box away in his trunk.  "Maybe Bellaton can check them.  It's the only nice thing the Durlseys have ever given me."  Harry didn't mention it, but he was very conscious of the talisman he was wearing, the one he wore every day.  The stickpin was poking into his skin a bit.  He wondered how well the emerald would work if he did eat something that wasn't so wholesome.

"Don't forget the other one," Ron said, stretching out his arm.  The mottled owl fluttered up to land, and Harry reached over to pull off the letter.  It turned out to be a note from Professor Thornby, informing him that he would ride the Hogwarts Express back to Kings Cross with the rest of the students who were going home.  When he disembarked, he would meet a disguised Professor Thornby who would take him to Alverbrooke with a Portkey.  When he finished reading, Harry crumpled the letter and set it aflame with his wand.

"I wonder who she'll be disguised as?" said Hermione.

"She didn't say," said Harry.

"Maybe she'll be an old woman again, like when we went to London for that concert," said Ron.

"Well, if I can't find her, she'll have to find me," said Harry.  "Come on, let's finish up.  We've got to get up early tomorrow to catch the train."  He opened the window, and the two owls soared off into the night.

**********

The next morning, Harry, Ron, and Hermione took the horseless carriages to the train station in Hogsmeade where the Hogwarts Express was already waiting.  Snow was falling softly onto the village, where smoke rose cheerfully from chimneys and the train's great red smokestack.  The students clambered out of the carriages and hurried toward the train, laughing and talking.  The gloomy atmosphere that had hung over them all for the past week was fading away; it was impossible to feel down when you were heading back to your family for the holidays.

The ride back to Kings Cross seemed to fly by.  Harry spent an enjoyable afternoon with Ron and Hermione, buying something of everything off the snack witch's trolley and playing Exploding Snap.  Fred and George created a diversion in the corridor when the door to their compartment was blown clean off its hinges; though both twins were covered in soot, they refused to say what it was they'd been up to.

The train rolled onto platform 9 ¾ as dusk was falling.  Harry gathered up his remaining sweets and singed Exploding Snap cards and disembarked with Ron and Hermione.  There were parents everywhere waving to the students coming off the train; here and there were reunited families who were hugging their hellos.  Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were easy to spot with their flaming red hair.

"Hullo, mum!" called Ginny, running into her mother's embrace.

"Oh, my dear Ginny, welcome back!  And here's Ron, oh, I've been _so_ pleased with your marks–"

"We always hoped he'd listen to us instead of you," said Fred, "but he's gone completely off his nut.  We hardly know him anymore."

"What happened to you two?" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley.  "No, I don't think I want to know after all.  And here's Hermione and Harry, oh, I've been so worried about you ever since we heard…"

"Sounds to me like you had nothing to worry about, Molly," said Mr. Weasley.  "They're heroes in the wizarding world right now."  He shook their hands.

"All the same, I hate to think about what could have happened," said Mrs. Weasley with a shiver.  "Still, all's well that ends well, except for poor Professor Snape, of course.  I wonder if I should send him a fruitcake?"

"Are you crazy?" cried Ron.  "He'd make my life a living hell!"

"Not to mention the rest of us," said Ginny.

"All right then, no fruitcake.  How about some homemade Pepper Imps?"

"Mum!"

"Come on, Molly, let's get off the platform.  Harry's escort is waiting."

They walked through the barrier between platform 9 ¾ and the rest of Kings Cross.  Harry immediately began looking around, trying to guess who might be Professor Thornby in disguise.  He could feel her in his head, coming closer from the right.

Harry got the shock of his life when he looked up to see Vernon Dursley bearing down on him, a vicious snarl on his face.  "Well, boy, don't keep me waiting," he growled, mustache twitching.

It was her, all right; Harry struggled to keep a straight face while he picked up Hedwig's cage and his trunk.  Ron was having less luck.  The corner of his mouth kept twitching.

"I thought you were going to stay with us for the holidays," said Fred suspiciously.

"Yeah," said George.  "Why on earth are you going back to Privet Drive?"

"George!" said Mrs. Weasley, sounding scandalized.

"Er, Dumbledore thinks I'll be safer there," Harry stammered.  He didn't think he was doing a very good job of covering his tracks.  Even Ginny had narrowed her eyes.

"Yes, you've been safe there for the last fifteen years," said Mr. Weasley smoothly.

"Safe?" exclaimed Fred.  "What about the pois-"

"FRED WEASLEY!" barked Mrs. Weasley.  "You are _not_ supposed to know that –"

"Well, we _eavesdropped_ on you, of course –"

"Get a move on, boy," grunted Professor Thornby.  "I left the motor running."  She turned and walked away, and Harry followed.  He cast a glance back over his shoulder just before they reached the exit; Fred, George, and Ginny were all being loudly told off, Ron was waving goodbye, and Hermione had apparently just found her own parents.

"Around the corner," said Professor Thornby as soon as they were outside.  They walked around the building to a shadowed alley on one side.

"I'm sorry you didn't get to meet the Grangers," she said in Uncle Vernon's gruff voice, "but Vernon Dursley wouldn't have wanted to."

"You're doing a pretty good impression," said Harry.

"Well, I got to know them rather better than I wanted to last summer," she replied.  She reached into the pocket of the tweed jacket she was wearing and pulled out a glove.  She laid it down on top of Harry's trunk, drew out a wand, and muttered, "_Portus_."  It was very odd for Harry to see Uncle Vernon holding a wand and muttering spells, even though he knew who it was underneath.

"Grab hold of your trunk, we don't want to leave it behind.  On three, we'll touch the portkey together.  One, two, three!"

They reached forward and each took one finger of the glove.  Harry felt the familiar jerk and cold wind on his face as they rushed forward through space.  With a jarring thump, he found himself standing on a snowy path with great fir trees all around.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"On the grounds, not too far from the house," she replied.  "I feel silly looking like this.  I was hoping that the Polyjuice Potion might wear off before we got back."

She cast a Featherlight Charm on Harry's trunk, and they started walking down the path.  They moved in silence for a long minute before Professor Thornby cleared her throat.

"There is another reason I set us down outside," she said.  "I wanted to apologize to you for not telling you about my House.  I didn't think you'd trust me if you knew…  What's so funny?"

"You can't know how weird it is for me to be having this conversation with Uncle Vernon," Harry laughed.

"This body is so heavy!" she exclaimed.  "I don't see how he lugs it around.  I hope this potion wears off soon, I'm sweating already.  But seriously, now, about my House –"

"It's okay," said Harry.  "I was just surprised, that's all.  I haven't met any decent Slytherins.  I don't trust them any farther than I can throw them, but you're different."

She exhaled, looking relieved.  Or rather, Vernon Dursley looked relieved.  "How far do you think you can throw me?" she joked.

They walked around another stand of trees and found that they had reached the end of the path.  It was now quite dark, but the stars shining overhead were bright.  The house lay before them across an open stretch of snowy ground.  Light was blazing from every window.

"Pretty, isn't it?" said Professor Thornby.  Her voice sounded funny; Harry looked over and saw her hair lengthening and her thick arms shrinking.  In a matter of moments, she had transformed back into herself.

"Oh, dear!" she cried, grasping at the waist of her now enormous trousers.  "I hadn't thought about this."  She waved her wand, and the clothes shrank and changed until she was wearing her usual garb.  She swung a dark cloak around her shoulders and clasped it in the front.  "Brrr, I'm freezing – let's get inside."

They had only covered half the remaining distance when they heard a joyous bark up at the house.  Three figures had emerged, one of which was a dark shape that was streaking over the ground.  It barreled into Harry and sent him flying backwards, being nearly as big as he was.  Harry found himself lying in the snow with a giant black dog's front paws on his shoulders.

"Ugh, Sirius!" Harry laughed, "You've got dog breath!"  The dog barked in reply.

"At obedience school they teach dogs not to jump up on people," smirked Professor Thornby.

The dog growled at her and swiped at the ground with its paw, flinging snow into her face.

"Oh, so that's how it's going to be," she said, and flicked her wand.  Quick as a wink, a mound of snow gathered itself up into a giant snowball, floated over the dog's head, and fell with a plop.

Sirius emerged in human form with a snowball in each hand, flinging one at Professor Thornby and one at Harry.

"Hey, what'd I do?" cried Harry, wiping snow out of his ear.  Another snowball smacked into his back and he turned to see Lupin grinning at him.

"You came home, that's what you did!" shouted Sirius, throwing another snowball.

"Wait, you can't have a snowball fight without me!" called Bellaton as he came running up.  Professor Thornby's response was to shower him with snowballs that she directed with her wand.

"Oi, that's not fair!" Bellaton cried.

"Are you a wizard or aren't you?" she taunted, then shrieked as Harry's missile smacked into her neck.  All order broke down as the five of them pulled out their wands and charmed snowballs that whizzed around indiscriminately, plowing into anybody and everybody.  When the blizzard finally stopped they were all on the ground, soaking wet and laughing.

"Welcome back, Harry," Sirius panted.

Harry grinned back.  _You came home_, his godfather had said.  With Sirius and Lupin there, Harry couldn't help feeling that it was true.


	22. A Christmas To Remember

**A/N: **Well, here it is, another installment!  Many, many thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Jedi Buttercup: I'm glad you thought the fruitcake thing was funny!  Hmm, that might make an interesting one-shot fic... Snape gets a fruitcake from Mrs. Weasley.

Danea: Thank you so much for your review!  Your comments were insightful and very helpful to me.  After reading your review I went back to the beginning of the story and read it through to the end (not every word, but pretty much all of it).  I can see things that I might want to change.  I've learned that when you write a story in installments, there are going to be things that eventually you wish you had done differently, but you've already "published" them.  Except for the parts that I've already written but haven't come to chronologically yet, there's a lot in the middle to fill in, detail-wise.  Dickens published his novels in weekly installments, but he _must_ have had them finished before he did so.

ootp-rules: I'm so pleased that you're continuing to read the story, and also that you liked Sirius' remark about coming home.  I agree – Harry needs to experience the kind of family life that he's never had before.  A lot of people write stories with "suffering Harry" in them, but I just can't bring myself to be so dark, and especially not at Christmas.

Molly Morrison: Prepare for more Christmasy fluff in this chapter!  Although I don't consider myself a "fluff" writer...

Wytil: Yeah... you've got to stop somewhere.  It's hard to divide the chapters sometimes.

Kaye: More about the chocolates in the next chapter.  Dun dun dun... maybe.  ;-)

Wolfia: Snape will come back in soon!

anynonymouse: Thank you so much!  I needed to hear that – that's exactly what I've been trying to do.

kira lingh: I'm really glad you're enjoying the story!  As far as other stories go... I haven't been keeping up well with ff.net lately.  Writing my own story has taken up a lot of my time, and I'm always afraid that reading other big, long stories will affect mine.  I'll try and get more recommendations for you, but until then – I have really enjoyed Harry Potter and the Legilimens Curse by PepperImp2003, and Betrayed by kateydidnt.

Whew!  With that all being said, here's the next chapter.  It's "happier" than most of the others, but then again, it _is_ Christmastime, and I'm in a festive mood.

Chapter 22: A Christmas to Remember

Harry was surprised to find how much like home Alverbrooke really was beginning to seem.  Coming back to it felt a good deal like coming back to Hogwarts, but it had one attraction that the school did not: there were no enemies to be found at Alverbrooke.  It was odd not to have Ron and Hermione around, but Sirius and Lupin made up for their absence.  When Harry moved his things back into the green room he'd used over the summer, he almost felt as if he had never left.

The house-elves had decked the house out in holiday fashion, and the decorations were more traditional than those at Hogwarts.  There were garlands wrapped around the banisters, fresh wreaths on the walls, and a live Christmas tree in the downstairs sitting room.  Of course, there were some magical touches as well.  Delicate snowflakes fell from the ceiling of the breakfast room and vanished before they could touch Bellaton's head, and there were tiny, twinkling lights on the tree that moved around; a closer look showed them to be what looked like silver fireflies.

Sirius got the chance to play mother hen fairly early in the holiday.  He and Lupin had heard about what had happened to Snape, of course, and they demanded a full report from Harry.  At first Sirius was angry that Harry had taken it upon himself to learn such a dangerous spell, but once Harry explained how he had learned it, Sirius relented.  He and Lupin were both very impressed by Harry's success, but Harry could tell that his godfather was uneasy about his newfound knowledge.

"Perhaps we should have given you some body armor instead of a talisman," Sirius joked.

"Well, Christmas is coming up," said Lupin.  "But I don't think we have any chainmail lying around."

They fell to discussing the skills that Harry could have inherited from Voldemort and Professor Thornby.  When the subject of Singers came up, Sirius scowled.

"No offense to Ardoc or Celeste, but I hope she didn't pass that on," he said.  "It'll just be that many more people who want you dead, and we're having enough trouble as it is."

"Don't you think it would be useful if I knew how to do it?" asked Harry.

"Don't you think you've got enough on your plate right now?" Sirius fired back.  "Besides, that's why Ardoc and Celeste are at Hogwarts – so _they_ can deal with enemy Singers."

"She said the talent would show up sooner or later if I'd gotten it," said Harry.

"Well, you may find out before school starts again, judging by the way they're carrying on," said Lupin.

Bellaton and Professor Thornby had begun singing again almost from the moment they reentered the house.  They spent hours each day in the music room, singing scales and doing exercises.  They claimed that after months of disuse, their voices needed to be toned up again.  "Imagine if you hadn't been able to talk for weeks," said Professor Thornby.  "Think how odd your voice would sound when you started up again."

After a few days Harry got used to the constant snippets of song that drifted through the house.  They were all simple tunes with none of the multiple voices that he knew they could do, so Harry took notice on the first day that they began to do something more.  He was sitting in the music room listening to them practice, hoping that maybe he might feel something that would tell him whether or not he was a Singer, too.  It started out as just another Christmas carol – something they'd been singing dozens of every day.

"Hark! How the bells, sweet silver bells, all seem to say throw cares away…"

And then they started to divide their voices, slowly adding more to the mix.

"Christmas is here, bringing good cheer, to young and old, meek and the bold…"

Still more joined in.  It was bizarre to see only two mouths moving while it sounded as if a small choir were standing in the room.

"Ding, dong, ding dong, that is their song, with joyful ring all caroling…"

The small choir became a full choir.

"One seems to hear words of good cheer from ev'rywhere filling the air!"

Harry sat entranced while the sound got bigger and bigger.  He felt like the music had gotten inside him somehow.  As they went on, he thought he could understand why Singers were still feared as they were.  There was something apocalyptic in the carol's minor key, and the power of the music was overwhelming.  Ordinary wizards must have felt that there was little they could do against such a wall of sound.

The carol reached its ringing conclusion.  When the professors stopped singing the room felt strangely empty.

Applause sounded from the doorway; Harry looked up to see Sirius, Lupin, and Dumbledore standing there.

"Well done indeed," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses.  "That always was my favorite carol."

"If we'd known you were coming, we would have waited," said Bellaton.

Professor Thornby sat down on a piano bench and rested her head in her hand.

"Are you all right?" said Lupin.

"Just tired, thank you," she said wearily.  "After so long, splitting my voice really takes it out of me."

"I didn't know that song was magical," said Harry.

"It's not," said Bellaton.  "We can divide our voices for whatever song we wish.  Better to practice on something harmless before you try a spell.  We wouldn't want to set the house on fire."  He winked at them all.

"No, we would not want that," said Dumbledore.  He clasped his hands behind his back and strode into the room.  "I would not have a place to retreat to without Alverbrooke."

"What's happened?" said Lupin.

"Do I wear my heart on my sleeve?" asked Dumbledore with a slight smile.  "I believe I am about to lose my seat on the Wizengamot."

"What?" Sirius exclaimed.  "Why?"

"Cornelius Fudge wishes to pass a few laws that I feel are either unjust or unnecessary," said Dumbledore.  "Many of the other members agree with him, and without me on the court, he thinks the opposition will fall away."

"Wait a minute," said Harry.  "The Wizengamot passes laws?"

"No," said Dumbledore.  "The Assembly is a panel of thirty witches and wizards who write and pass new laws.  The Minister of Magic sometimes suggests decrees and acts, but they must be reviewed and ratified by the Assembly."

"_Thirty_ witches and wizards?" said Harry incredulously.  "Parliament has hundreds of members, and you've got _thirty_ in _one house_?"

"The system is archaic," said Dumbledore.  "I have long felt that a larger Assembly modeled after the Muggle government would be a vast improvement, but Cornelius opposes the idea."

"And well he might," said Bellaton darkly.  "He owns more than half the members of the Assembly."

"There is no proof of that," said Dumbledore, "but yes, it does appear that he has bought many of them."

"So Fudge is in control of everything?" said Harry.

"Everything but the Wizengamot," said Dumbledore.  "It can oppose the Assembly on the issue of new law.  Several members have recently reversed their positions on the proposed laws, men and women with good heads on their shoulders, but with families as well.  I have seen fear in their eyes; someone has been threatening them.  Once I am removed as head of the Wizengamot, the court will fall completely under Cornelius' sway."

Dumbledore sat down in a chair with a sigh.  He looked very tired, but his sharp blue eyes showed no hint of despair.  Professor Thornby waved her wand and a steaming cup of tea materialized on the piano.  Dumbledore who accepted it from her with thanks, and she gave his shoulder an affectionate pat.

"Is there anything you can do?" said Lupin.

"No," said Dumbledore, taking a sip of the tea.  "We must simply wait and take what comes.  But even if I am removed from the government, I am not without resources."

"But aren't you afraid that Fudge will try and take you away from Hogwarts?" said Harry.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.  "He will have a hard time doing that.  I was appointed Headmaster for life – or until I choose to end my term.  I will not choose to end it anytime soon.  No, I will yet be a thorn in his foot."  He took another sip of his tea.  "Oh, I thought you would like to know that Professor Snape is recovering nicely."

"He's awake, then?" said Bellaton.

"Awake and snarling," chuckled Dumbledore.  "I overheard him threatening to hex Madam Pomfrey if she refused to release him.  Of course, _she_ threatened to keep him drugged until the start of term if he tried."

"Sounds like the old bat's almost back to normal," said Sirius.

"Old enmities certainly die hard," Dumbledore said lightly.

"Or not at all," growled Sirius.

"Perhaps it is just as well he refused my invitation to come here for Christmas, then," said Dumbledore.  He held up a hand to forestall Sirius, who had opened his mouth indignantly.  "You are going to have to learn to work together sometime."  He pulled his pocketwatch from his robes and consulted the face.  "Dear me, I must be going."

"But you only just got here," said Professor Thornby.

"I have some calls to make," said Dumbledore.  "I must try and delay my removal from the Wizengamot for as long as possible.  I will come again as soon as I can."

Dumbledore did come and go many times over the next few days.  He never brought up the subject of Fudge or the Wizengamot, and neither did the others.  "Believe me, when Dumbledore is no longer Chief Warlock, the entire wizarding world will know courtesy of the _Daily Prophet_, and so will we," said Professor Thornby when Harry asked her about it.

Harry was spending a lot more time with his guardian than he had in the past.  Even though they had spent time together over the summer, she had mostly left Harry alone so he could be with Sirius and Lupin, and at school it was not wise to appear too friendly.  As a result Harry had always thought her a bit cool and standoffish, but the more he got to know her, the more he realized that it was just the way things had to be around everyone else.  "There's no one here I have to pretend for," she said to Harry.

One afternoon, Professor Thornby recruited Harry to help her make Christmas cookies.  "I know the house-elves can do it, but I rather enjoy baking," she said.  And so Harry found himself in the kitchen, mixing up bowls of flour, sugar, and egg.  He found the whole process to be great fun; Aunt Petunia had never let him help when he was little, and Dudley had always gotten to lick the spoons.  Harry and Professor Thornby made gingerbread, raspberry bars, macaroons, and snickerdoodles.  The good smells attracted Sirius, Lupin, and Bellaton, all of whom were glad to steal a few of the treats.  Only Lupin stayed behind to help clean up some of the floury mess - Sirius and Bellaton bolted as soon as work was mentioned.

While the three of them were piping icing onto the gingerbread men, Professor Thornby suggested an experiment.  "I'm going to Sing something, and I want you to pay attention to how you feel," she said to Harry.  "If you've gained the ability, you should feel a sort of resonance within yourself as I go on."

"What are you going to do?" asked Lupin.  "Make the broom sweep the floor?"

"I don't know any cleaning Songs," she said, smiling.  "I'll just make that gingerbread man dance."  She pointed to a small tray of finished cookies.  "Ready?"

Harry nodded, and she began.  It was a cheerful little Song, simple and quick in tempo.  The gingerbread man stood up and began to dance a little jig on the tray.  Professor Thornby doubled her voice, and another stood up.  The two cookies joined hands and twirled, then did a do-si-do.  A few more divisions, and before long all the gingerbread men on the tray were up and dancing.  It was so funny that Harry and Lupin were soon chuckling like mad.  When the cookies all paired up and began to waltz, it became too much even for Professor Thornby, who burst out laughing in the middle of her song.  The cookies all leapt from the counter and onto the floor where they began to run about every which way.  For a few minutes it was madness in the kitchen while the three of them tried to round up the gingerbread men.  They didn't seem to want to stop moving, so in the end they were stuffed into an empty sugar bag until the enchantment wore off.

"Odd things can happen if Songs are interrupted," panted Professor Thornby.  "I probably shouldn't have made so many of them dance.  It was too funny, I just couldn't help myself."  She glanced over to the sugar sack, which was being poked and prodded from the inside, and grinned.  "So!  Did you feel anything?"

"I don't think so," he said.  "Maybe I missed it."

"Well, I didn't feel anything either," she said.  "I was paying attention, so if you had the ability, I should have noticed a resonance from you.  Still, it doesn't mean that the talent won't ever show up.  It could be latent within you for now.  We can try again later, perhaps at the end of the school year."

**********

On Christmas morning Harry awoke to the sight of Sirius standing over him, holding his cloak and striped Gryffindor scarf.  "It's snowing like crazy," he said.  "Come on, up and at 'em!  Ardoc and Remus are downstairs waiting.  Remus will go back to sleep if you take too long."

"It's barely light out!" Harry mumbled.

"Yes, well, if we want to get a snowball fight in before presents, we'd better get a move on."

Harry dressed and followed his godfather down the stairs and into the hall.  Just as Sirius had said, Bellaton and Lupin were both there waiting, but Lupin was asleep on the stairs with his head against the railing.

"Wake up, Moony!" said Sirius.  Lupin groggily rose and followed them out the front door.

"Didn't Professor Thornby want to come?" asked Harry.

"Ah, no," said Bellaton.  "She reached for her wand when I shook her awake.  I left her room right quick."

They teamed up, with Harry and Sirius against Lupin and Bellaton.  Each team took fifteen minutes to build a fort.  "And no singing!" Sirius shouted after Bellaton, who responded by tossing a snowball their way.  With four wizards on the scene, there were soon two very impressive forts standing fifty yards apart, each two stories tall.  The object of the game was apparently to see who could destroy each other's fort first.  Sirius attacked while Harry defended.  They did well, with Harry deflecting Thawing Charms and Sirius attempting to knock down their opponents' walls with speeding balls of ice.  In the end Lupin and Bellaton won when they teamed up and attacked with everything they could throw; it was too much for Harry to handle and their fort came tumbling down.  They reentered the house with mud, ice, and snow in their hair to find Professor Thornby sitting calmly by the tree, a cup of tea in one hand.

"Celeste, you missed a good fight," said Bellaton.

"From the looks of things, I'm glad I stayed in bed," she replied, shaking her head at them all.

Once they had all dried off, they opened presents and ate breakfast.  Harry was thrilled with the set of Quidditch balls Sirius and Lupin gave him, complete with a winged golden Snitch.  There was a package from Mrs. Weasley containing mince pies and the usual jumper with the letter "H" knitted into the front, and Dobby had owled him a pair of socks that were covered in little Christmas trees.  "Dobby made them himself," read the note that accompanied the package.

Perhaps the oddest gift came from the professors, which turned out to be a long dagger in a worked leather scabbard.  "It's a standard Auror's tool," Bellaton explained.  "That's silver inlaid in the steel there, see it?  That will make a werewolf think twice about attacking, and the blade is long enough to pierce a vampire's heart.  No offense meant," he said apologetically to Lupin, who was eyeing the knife warily.

"None taken," said Lupin.  "Just don't leave it lying around."  He swallowed uncomfortably.  Harry carefully wrapped the sheathed knife in his scarf and Lupin seemed to breathe a little easier.

Harry had his own set of presents, and they seemed to go over well.  He gave Sirius a book on disguises and Lupin a bag of powdered chinaberries.  "Hermione did some research," he explained.  "She says you might be able to sweeten your potion without ruining it."

Lupin took the bag with an expression of wonder on his face.  "I'll try it next full moon," he said.  "Please tell her thank you from me."

"You can tell her yourself," said Professor Thornby.  "An owl came while you were all outside.  Ron and Hermione have been given permission to have a brief visit.  They're coming this evening with Albus and Minerva."

"Capital!" said Bellaton.  "We'll have ourselves a merry little Christmas party."

Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Ron, and Hermione all arrived together that night, stepping out of the fireplace one at a time.  Ron and Hermione greeted Sirius and Lupin, the latter of which thanked Hermione for the chinaberries.

"Oh, it was nothing, really," she said, blushing.  "I stumbled across it when reading up on the history of Polyjuice Potion.  I, erm, have heard it tastes quite foul, and in the book there was mention of using chinaberry to mask the taste.  After that, it was easy to find what I was looking for.  Four or five books more, and I had it."

"Ah," said Lupin, looking a bit dazed.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione retreated to a corner of the room while the adults began to converse.  "Guess what I got for Christmas!" Ron said excitedly as soon as they were alone.

"Um, I dunno… new dress robes?" said Harry.

"A Zephyr Twenty-One!" Ron crowed.  "My very own broomstick!  It's not a patch on your Firebolt, of course, but it's not bad – better than a Comet.  I can't wait until we play Hufflepuff – just let them _try_ and get past me!  I'll be a human wall!"

"Cool!" said Harry.  "How'd the twins take it?"

"Oh, fine," said Ron.  "They got their Comets years ago when they made the team.  It's been nice to be home," he sighed.  "Everyone's at the Burrow for the holidays except for Percy.  Mum's learning to cope, but she still hopes he'll come round."

"Don't you all want that?" said Hermione.

"Yeah, of course we do," said Ron.  "I mean, if he doesn't...  Fred and George are right skeeved at him, but he's still our brother."

"So what fish story did you have to feed them to get over here?" asked Harry.

"Mum and dad told everyone that I'm off at Hermione's with you for a few days, but I'm not sure they're buying it.  Fred and George don't believe that the Dursleys would have let you go.  Anyway, we're going to have to get our stories straight before we go back to school, that's for sure."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't keep to themselves for long.  The house-elves had prepared a Christmas dinner with all the trimmings, and they stuffed themselves silly with ham, seasoned potatoes, and fruit.  The gingerbread cookies made an appearance at dessert along with three different kinds of pie.  There was far too much food for nine people, but they did their best to make a dent in it.  They spent the rest of the evening drinking eggnog and wassail while Bellaton led them in one carol after another and snow drifted gently past the windows.  At first Harry and his friends felt a bit odd with the Headmaster and their Head of House there, but they were both so unreserved that the feeling melted away.  Professor McGonagall began to get a bit giggly as the night wore on, having had more than one glass of wassail.  Harry tried to fix the image of her in his head, knowing that he'd probably never see its like again.

  Later in the evening, Harry, Ron, and Hermione gave each other their Christmas gifts.  Ron pulled out his first – a fancy barrette for Hermione and a Wizard Chess set for Harry.  Harry gave Hermione the quill-and-ink set, and she gave him a book on the art of the quarterstaff.

"Hey, that's a book I actually wouldn't mind having," said Ron, peering at the cover.

"Well, I might have got you that, but Harry and I bought your present together," said Hermione.

"It's upstairs in my room," said Harry.  "Come on, let's go get it before we get roped into singing 'The Twelve Days of Christmas'."

They headed off toward the staircase, passing through several rooms on the way.  Harry headed for the solarium, fully intending to take a shortcut through it, but when he rounded the corner he stopped so suddenly that Hermione collided with his back.  "What –" she began, but hushed when Harry put a finger to his lips and pointed.  Standing in the far corner were Lupin and Professor Thornby.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione backed up until they were hidden from view by a screen of hanging orchids.

"What's this?" said Professor Thornby, taking a large, flat box from Lupin's hand.

"Your Christmas present," he said.  "I didn't want to give it to you in front of Sirius, he'd think it was too… extravagant."

"Extravagant?"  She flipped up the lid of the box and gasped.  "Oh, my…"

"They were my mother's," Lupin said quickly.  "I want you to have them."

"Your mother's?" she said faintly.  "Remus, to put that on top of what they're worth already… these are priceless.  I couldn't possibly –"

"Please," he interrupted.  "Please, I – I really want you to have them.  I had a mother who loved me, and that's more than a lot of people can say.  I don't need to keep her jewelry.  I'd look silly wearing them anyway."

"Yes," she said with a soft laugh.  "You would."

"You've done more for me than you know," said Lupin, looking down at his hands.  "What with how you're looking after Harry and all – I did it once, but I can't anymore.  Besides… they'd look good on you."

Professor Thornby smiled down at the box.  "I don't have anything nearly as grand for you," she said quietly.

"Yes, you do," said Lupin.  He was still studying his hands.  "You've always been very kind to me.  I don't have many friends, so it means a lot."

Professor Thornby carefully closed the box.  "I don't know what to say," she said.  "Thank you.  It's a beautiful gift."

"You won't say anything to Sirius?"

"Of course not."

There was a long pause.  Lupin seemed to be struggling with himself.  "Listen, I've been meaning to ask you… that is, I was wondering if you might…"

A slow grin crept over Harry's face.  Next to him, Hermione put a hand to her mouth to cover her smile, and Ron's mouth fell open.

"Do you always give women jewels before you ask them out?" Professor Thornby teased gently.

"I don't have much practice at this," Lupin stammered.

"I'd love to," she said.

"You would?" he said, looking up at her in surprise.  "Why?"

"Because I like you," she said softly.

Lupin's expression was so hopeful that it was almost painful to see.  They both leaned forward slightly, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione backed away as quietly as they could.  Some moments were too private to watch.  They tiptoed out of the solarium to the main hallway where they all exhaled together.

"Wow," said Ron.  "Way to go, Remus!"

"That was so romantic!" sighed Hermione.

"I didn't know you went in for all that mushy stuff," said Ron.

Hermione smiled at him.  "You don't know anything about women, do you?"

"I do have a sister," Ron retorted.

"And five brothers," said Hermione.  "I wonder if they're as blind as you are?  Remus stared at Professor Thornby all summer, and he couldn't keep his eyes off her tonight."

"Well, what do you think?" Ron asked Harry.

"I think it's great," Harry said enthusiastically.  "He's been alone for most of his life, hasn't he?"

They reached Harry's door.  "Okay, close your eyes," said Hermione.

"Why?" said Ron.

"We couldn't wrap it," Harry explained.

"Couldn't wrap it?  Sounds interesting," Ron said devilishly, but he shut his eyes when Hermione opened the door.  Harry retrieved the covered cage, and Hermione put Ron's hand on the handle.  "Okay – take a look," Harry said.

Ron opened his eyes and gasped.  He pulled off the cover and found two golden eyes staring back at him.  He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

Hermione clapped her hands.  "Oh, I _knew_ you'd like it!" she said.

"Merry Christmas, mate," said Harry.

Ron found his voice at last.  "_Thank _you!" he said.  He opened the cage door, and the proud falcon shuffled out onto his arm.  "Is it a he or a she?"

"It's a he," said Hermione, her eyes shining.

"Then I think I'll name him Orpheus," said Ron.  With a contented smile on his face, he raised his free hand to stroke the bird's back.  "Remus gets a date, McGonagall gets tipsy, I get a new broomstick, and a falcon from my two best mates.  This is definitely a day I'll remember for the rest of my life."


	23. Displays of Temper

**A/N: Many thanks to my reviewers! Some of you guys are repeaters, which is really very nice of you. To respond to a few comments…**

Wolfia: Thanks for reviewing again… for the third time! Yeah, I thought Ron deserved a nice Christmas.

Jedi Buttercup: As far as the chinaberries go, I just made it up… you're right, I'm sure they're inedible. I'm glad you approve of the Lupin/Thornby pairing! It's going to be very low key. This isn't a romance, and I never wanted her to be a dreaded Mary Sue (which is why you will never see guys fighting over her). Pretty is fine, but she's not allowed to be perfect. Seriously, Lupin deserves a little moment of happiness, and I imagine he never thought much about love because of his werewolf status. But he's thoughtful, intelligent, and sincere, and those are qualities that women love. There's plenty to like about him.

Barbara Kennedy: Thank you so much. I'm glad you approve of the characterizations, and I hope you continue to enjoy the work!

PhoenixTearsp322: Wow, another person who gave me their very first review! I'm so pleased. About falconry – you're right, if you're hunting with a falcon, that's exactly what it should be called. I went ahead and looked up "hawking" in the dictionary, and it does mean (among other things) "to hunt with trained hawks". But they aren't using hawks, are they? I'm going to have to go back and make a correction… either turn the falcons into hawks or change a few verbs. Thank you for the heads-up!

FYI, I very much doubt there will be another update until January. I'm heading home for awhile and won't be working on the story until later. As soon as I get back I'll fire up the computer again. Happy holidays, everyone!

Chapter 23: Displays of Temper

Ron and Hermione did not stay long.  They spent the day after Christmas at Alverbrooke and left the following morning.  Still, there was plenty for Harry to do in the few days remaining before his return to Hogwarts.  He spent a good deal of his time in the combat room practicing with anyone who would have him, working on the staff and his curses.  He listened to Bellaton and Professor Thornby every time they Sang anything, but he never felt any twinges of recognition.  Harry wasn't sure if he felt relieved or disappointed.

Even though his status as a Singer was still up in the air, Harry found that he had indeed learned something else from Professor Thornby.  He was sparring with Bellaton one afternoon when it happened.  Harry pretended to stumble while blocking one of Bellaton's thrusts, and the older man rushed forward only to find Harry's staff smacking first into his side and then against his head.

Harry gasped as Bellaton went down in a heap.  He'd done it all so fast!  "Are you all right?" he exclaimed.

Bellaton shook his head a few times and then began to chuckle.  "Congratulations.  You've finally managed to fell me."  He was right; Harry hardly ever managed to so much as touch the other man with his staff.  "What made you think of feinting?"

"I don't know," said Harry, cocking his head.  "You don't think –" 

"It's one of Celeste's signature moves," Bellaton said, giving Harry a significant look.  "She loves to pull that trick on me.  I don't fall for it so often when she uses it – we read each other too well – but I wasn't expecting it from you.  Unpredictability can be useful when facing an opponent."  He picked himself up off the ground, wincing slightly.  "I'd say you've progressed far beyond most of the other students by now, which is exactly what we wanted.  I hope you're not too bored with the Dueling Club."

"Bored?  No way," said Harry.  "I look forward to it all week."

"Well then, let's see if you've picked up anything else," said Bellaton.  "En garde!"

The break was winding to a close.  In Harry's opinion it had been a good one, even if it had gotten off to a rocky start.  Unfortunately, it was about to end the way it had begun.

First, the news appeared in the _Daily Prophet_ that the Ministry of Magic's inspection of Hogwarts had not gone well.  The delegation's complaints included poor school management, an unsatisfactory curriculum, and a lack of discipline among the students.  Harry scoffed at all three, especially the last.  All the students had either been in Hogsmeade or their dormitories at the time of the delegation's visit, so student discipline was not something they had even had the chance to observe.  The professors didn't seem concerned for themselves, but they did worry about Dumbledore.  It wasn't hard to see that this was Fudge's first step in trying to oust the old wizard from the school.

If the first article had been unpleasant, the one that appeared the next day was even worse.  Harry almost choked on his scone when he read the headline "NATIONAL MANHUNT FOR SIRIUS BLACK RESUMED".  According to the article, Fudge's theory that Sirius was behind the recent killing spree had become rather popular.  Even the Muggle police were being re-alerted to the "threat" that he posed to "all mankind".

Harry was infuriated and afraid at the same time.  It was maddening not to be able to do anything while Fudge twitched his strings, making the wizarding world dance like a marionette.  Sirius had never gone into much detail when Harry asked him about his duties ("It's for my own safety", he'd say), but Harry had always suspected that he was traveling the countryside in disguise, running errands for Dumbledore.  Now even that would be dangerous; the article specifically warned readers that the accused would not appear as himself.

Sirius took the news more calmly than Harry had expected.  He wasn't happy about it at all – that much was plain from the compressed set of his lips – but there was no display of temper, no raging anger, just silent acceptance of something he had had to deal with before.  Lupin seemed just as surprised as Harry at Sirius' lack of response to the article.  Both of them had expected an explosion, and it did eventually come, but it wasn't the _Daily Prophet_ that set it off.

It was the last day of the Christmas holidays, and Harry was packing up his trunk.  The next morning he would be returning to Kings Cross with the Weasleys to take the train back to school.  He carefully tucked his Christmas presents away – the books, the Quidditch set, the chessmen, and his new sweater.  The only remaining gift was the Auror's knife that the professors had given him.  Harry pulled it carefully from its scabbard and took another look at it.  Light glittered white along the slightly curved edge.  Now that he actually studied it, he saw that the silver had been inlaid in a very intricate pattern.  Harry felt ambivalent about the knife; it was pretty in its own way, but it was meant to cut and wound, even if it was only in self-defense.  He had never thought that Aurors would carry weapons of this kind; after all, they had magic to defend themselves with.  Harry carefully touched the edge with his thumb and instantly stuck the finger back in his mouth when he was cut.  It was _very sharp, like a razor.  Harry shivered, resheathed the blade, and wrapped it up in the sweater he had just packed._

He was in the process of shoving the sweater down to the bottom of his trunk when his hand found a box.  Curious, he pulled it out, and recognized the chocolates the Dursleys had sent him.  He had completely forgotten about them.  He set off in search of Professor Bellaton, hoping that the candy was safe to eat.  They did look good, and the Dursleys had never given him anything so nice before.  Not even close.

Bellaton's reaction to the gift was similar to Hermione's – dark and untrusting.  Sirius, Lupin, and Professor Thornby exchanged significant glances, and Harry felt a bit stupid for not seeing what Hermione had been so quick to suspect.  His only comfort was that Ron had been just as blind.

Before long, the five of them were crowded around a kitchen counter.  Bellaton opened the box of chocolates and sniffed the contents.  He passed his wand over the box several times, muttering under his breath.  Finally he drew out one piece, picked up a knife, and sliced it neatly in two.

A greenish substance immediately spilled forth and began to bubble and smoke.  To Harry's shock, he saw that the glutinous liquid was eating a hole in the countertop.  With a grim expression on his face, Bellaton placed another chocolate on the counter a short distance away and cut it open.  The same sickly liquid leaked out and began to froth.

Sirius' face was dead white.  "I'll kill him!" he hissed, his eyes flashing, and Harry had no doubt that he meant what he said.  "I will _kill_ that bastard Dursley –"  

"No!" Harry cried, just as Lupin seized his friend's arm and said, "Sirius!"

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't," Sirius growled, straining against Lupin's grip.  "Twice in one year they've tried to poison you, Harry!  Why are you defending them?"

"This can't be their fault!" said Harry.  "I don't believe it!  They wouldn't try to kill me, they're too cowardly anyway –"

"Poison is exactly how cowards kill their enemies!" Sirius shouted.  "How forgiving would you feel if this acid were burning a hole in your throat?"

Harry flinched.  The substance was still fizzling in the crater it had made in the countertop.  He didn't think that his emerald talisman could have done anything to save him if he'd eaten one of the chocolates.  "They wouldn't," he whispered.  He still believed what he had told his godfather months ago – that the Dursleys didn't care a fig for him, but they would never think of murder.  Yet in the face of Sirius' rage, he had to acknowledge the possibility that perhaps they _had_ thought of it, and the notion chilled Harry to the bone.

"Let go," Sirius snapped at Lupin, who was continuing to restrain him.  "Let me go, I'm going to teach them a lesson they'll never forget –"

"You will do no such thing," said Professor Thornby.  "_I_ will go and discover the truth of the matter."

Sirius snarled at her.  "I am his godfather!  You will not keep me from this!"

"Oh, yes I will," she hissed at him.  "You're too incensed to judge the Dursleys fairly.  And even if you weren't insane with rage, you cannot just go forth into the Muggle world!"

"I can do whatever I wish –"

"You are a wanted man there as well as here, and if our enemies discover that you know about this" – she pointed to the box of chocolates – "then they know that where Harry is, there you also must be."

"You can't prevent me from seeking justice for my best friend's only child!"

"ENOUGH!"  Professor Thornby brought her hand down on the counter with a loud crack.  There was a cold fury burning in her eyes the likes of which Harry had never seen before.  "You are a fool," she said icily.  "For your godson's sake you must not endanger yourself!  You are his only family.  Would you take that away from one who has already lost too much?"

Harry did not especially care for the conversation.  They were talking about him in the third person as if he weren't standing right there in front of them.  A part of him appreciated Sirius' fierce protectiveness, as it bespoke of a love that the Dursleys had never shown him, but he chafed at the constant worry everyone seemed to feel on his behalf.  He was not a child!  He could take care of himself!  _Yeah, but it took Hermione to stop you and Ron from eating that candy,_ said a voice in his head.  Harry grudgingly accepted that fact as true.  He made a mental note to give Hermione a big thank you when he saw her again.

In the face of Professor Thornby's wrath, Sirius stilled his tongue.  With a venomous glare at Lupin, he shook himself free of his friend's grip.

"Good," Professor Thornby said dryly.  "I will go immediately."  She turned and stalked out of the kitchen, leaving four very tense men in her wake.

The afternoon wore on slowly while they waited for Professor Thornby to return.  Sirius was clearly furious with Lupin, but the latter was doing his best to avoid a confrontation.  Harry and Bellaton steered as wide of the pair as possible, not wanting to be caught in the middle of anything.  Even though the tension in the air could have been cut with a knife, Sirius and Lupin showed up for afternoon tea in the breakfast room along with Bellaton and Harry.  Just as Harry had feared, it wasn't long before Sirius let into his friend with a vengeance.

"Remus, what is wrong with you?" he said coldly.  "I would have thought you'd want to see the Dursleys punished."

Something flickered across Lupin's face, but calm instantly replaced it.  "If I were Harry's godfather, I imagine our roles would have been reversed today," he said.

"You were always the cautious one," said Sirius.  "But sometimes _action _is required.  I _needed_ to rage at them until they begged Harry for forgiveness, and you denied me of it!"

"You had no facts, just a gift that might or might not have been from the people you hate so much," said Lupin, taking a sip of his tea.

"And a prior bad act!" cried Sirius.  "They knowingly gave Harry that drink last summer.  Perhaps they didn't mind the idea of being rid of him for good!"

"After last summer, it's doubtful that Dumbledore would allow Harry to return to Privet Drive anyway," said Lupin, refusing to meet Sirius' challenging gaze.  "Listen to yourself, Sirius.  You are jumping to conclusions.  You could have committed a grave misdeed today."

Sirius laughed bitterly.  "Oh, I see.  You've just decided to side with the newfound love of your heart."  Lupin's eyes flashed.  Bellaton and Harry exchanged glances that said the same thing: _Should we leave?_

"_Now_ I have your attention," said Sirius.  "You think I haven't noticed?  All that sneaking around you two are doing, the looks you're exchanging?"

"Why should you care?"  Lupin's tone should have frozen Sirius on the spot.  As it was, it made the hair at the back of Harry's neck stand up.

"I think that perhaps Celeste should focus more on being _Harry's_ guardian and less on dividing her loyalties between the two of you," hissed Sirius.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the doorway, and Sirius whirled around.  Professor Thornby stood there, still wrapped in a traveling cloak, a stricken look on her face.  Sirius' eyes widened and he stepped forward, but she turned and fled down the hall.  He turned back to the table and Lupin's fist connected solidly with his jaw, sending him tumbling to the ground.

"Is Harry the only person anyone is allowed to love?" Lupin shouted.  "How _dare _you accuse Celeste of such a thing!  You have no idea how much she feels the weight of her responsibility, how much she has come to care for him!"  Lupin advanced on his fallen friend.  "Just a few days ago, I found a new fear within myself.  Do you know what that is?  Do you?"  Sirius shook his head.  "That someday she might have to choose between Harry and me.  And I know who she'd choose: Harry.  She will always choose him as long as she remains his guardian, because she made a promise to him, and to us.  And then I would lose…"  Lupin's voice trembled, and he broke off.

Sirius' face was marred by shock and regret.  "Remus –"

"Shut up," Lupin snapped savagely.  "I'm not in the mood."  He turned and strode from the room, leaving Sirius sprawled on the floor.

Harry sat motionless in his chair.  For several long moments Bellaton did the same, but he finally rose and walked over to Sirius, proffering his hand.

"You've got no reason to help me," Sirius said dully.

"We all say stupid things now and then," he said.  Sirius nodded, and Bellaton helped him up from the ground.

Harry felt odd, as if he wanted to move but couldn't.  Sirius' and Lupin's angry words had left him feeling frozen inside.  And though he knew Lupin hadn't meant to accuse him of anything, Harry realized for the first time that Professor Thornby's vow was making it impossible for her to give her whole heart to anyone else.  He recognized the twinge of guilt that rose from within him and quashed it ruthlessly.  It wasn't his fault that he was who he was.  Fourteen years ago Voldemort had tried to make him a pawn in the war, but he had failed.  Harry refused to think like a pawn.  He made his own decisions, and so did Professor Thornby.

Bellaton invited Harry to spend the rest of the afternoon practicing with the quarterstaff, and Harry eagerly agreed.  He was still feeling numb, having never seen such a row between Sirius and Lupin before.  Bellaton worked Harry hard, and before long they had both ceased to think about the fights.  Harry lost himself in sweat, quick feet, and when it was over, in his tired muscles.  He and Bellaton both left the combat room in search of hot baths to wash away the grime and soothe their exhausted bodies.

Harry was just leaving his bathroom wrapped in a fluffy white robe when Lupin found him.  "Have you seen Celeste?" he said without preamble.

"Um, no," said Harry.  "I assumed she was walking off some steam."  Lupin muttered an oath under his breath.  "What, hasn't anyone seen her?" Harry asked.

"No," said Lupin.  "Not me, you, Bellaton, the house-elves… not even Sirius."  He spat out the last name with all the bitterness he still felt.  "He and Bellaton are outside looking for her right now, and that's where I'm going."

"He wants to apologize," said Harry.

"Yes, well, he can when I let him," said Lupin, and strode off down the hall.

Harry returned to his room and began to dress.  While pulling on his shirt, an idea came to him, and he wondered why no one else had thought of it yet.  He focused his mind on that sensation that was Professor Thornby's presence, and he quickly realized that she wasn't anywhere near the house.

Harry donned his cloak, scarf, and gloves, and hurried down the stairs, his Firebolt in one hand.  He stepped out a side door and saw why Lupin was worried: it was getting dark and snowing hard.

"Celeste!"  The call came from the east.  Bellaton's voice, Harry thought, but it was hard to be sure; the wind was picking up.  Harry looked down and saw that there were no footprints in the snow.  Still, he knew that he could point right at Professor Thornby from where he stood.  He climbed on his broomstick and flew silently into the gathering twilight.

Harry was soon glad that he had thought to fly instead of walk; his path took him right through the woods on one side of the property, and on the Firebolt he was able to go over them instead of through.  As he soared over the trees, he was surprised at how far he'd come.  It must have been a few miles at least; Harry found himself wondering why Professor Thornby was still so far from the house.  Even as upset as she must have been, she still should have had the presence of mind to turn around when the sun began sinking low.

Eventually Harry felt that he was drawing close.  He decreased his speed and carefully sank down into the forest.  By then it was quite dark outside and even more so under the canopy.  Harry pulled out his wand, muttered "_Lumos__"_, and carefully glided forward, weaving around the tree trunks.

"Professor?" he called.  For a moment his voice seemed to echo in the stillness, but it quickly faded and died in the blanket of snow.  "Professor?"

"Harry!"  The call came from his right.  Harry swerved in that direction and began searching, holding his wand aloft.  "Over here!"

Just when his head was telling him that he should be right on top of Professor Thornby, Harry saw her leaning wearily against a tree trunk.  A few strands of hair were plastered to her sweat-dampened face.

"What happened?" he said, landing his broomstick next to her.

"I fell," she said breathily.  "I think my ankle is broken."

"Well, your ride's here," said Harry.  "Come on, let me help you."  He pulled the Firebolt closer, and Professor Thornby carefully swung her injured leg over it.  Harry climbed on in front of her.  There wasn't much room for the two of them, and he worried about her sliding off the end.  "You'd better hold on to me," he said, and to his surprise she complied, putting both arms around his waist.  "Here we go."  Harry leaned forward and the Firebolt began to glide back through the woods.  By the time they rose above the trees, Professor Thornby was resting her head on the back of Harry's shoulder.  _She really must be tired if she was trying to walk through a snowy wood on one good leg,_ Harry thought.

When they finally came within view of the house, Harry heard a shout from across the snowy field.  He did not slow as Bellaton flew over to meet them on his own broomstick.  Close behind him were Sirius and Lupin.  Harry drifted the Firebolt down near the front door but did not dismount; Professor Thornby seemed to have fallen asleep at his back.  The others landed and began to pull her off Harry's broom.  She woke instantly and winced.

"Watch her foot," said Harry.

"You knew exactly where to find her," Sirius said admiringly.  "Why didn't you say anything?"

"You didn't ask," said Harry with a shrug.

Bellaton, being the biggest and strongest of the three, carried Professor Thornby through the door while Harry hopped off his broomstick.  "How could you just take off without telling any of us where you were going?" said Lupin, exasperation plain in his voice.

Harry went rigid.  The last thing he wanted was to be mollycoddled.

"Oh, leave over, Remus," Professor Thornby sighed.  "He was perfectly in control of the situation.  He's not the one who needed rescuing this time."

Harry felt a surge of pride at her words.  It felt wonderful to be the helper instead of the one who was being helped.  When he thought about it, he realized that he had taken charge back in the woods, and Professor Thornby had let him.

Everyone followed Bellaton into a sitting room where he set Professor Thornby down on a long sofa.  Lupin hovered over her shoulder while Sirius and Harry took chairs in the corner.  Bellaton gently began prodding at Professor Thornby's ankle.  She hissed loudly, and he nodded.  "Broken," he said.  "Does anyone here know how to mend bones?"  No one answered.  "Right, then.  We'll have to go for the old Skele-Gro."

Professor Thornby groaned.  "I hate that stuff."

"Stop breaking your bones and you won't have to drink it," Bellaton retorted.  "_Accio_Skele-Gro!What happened, anyway?"

"I was stomping through the woods without taking enough care," she said.  "A tree root tripped me, and down I went.  I was trying to get back to the edge of the trees but it was slow going with the snow and all.  I didn't even feel Harry until after I heard him calling for me."

There was a smashing sound, and a black bottle came whizzing into the room.  Bellaton reached up and it smacked loudly into his palm.  _"Reparo,"_ said Sirius, pointing his wand at the pile in the hall.  The broken vase sprang back together.

"What did the Dursleys say?" Harry asked quietly.  Everyone paused; it seemed they had all forgotten about what had caused all the trouble in the first place.

"It wasn't their fault," said Professor Thornby.  "At least, it probably wasn't.  Their memories have been modified.  They profess not to remember sending you any such gift, and I believe them.  Whose idea the gift was in the first place I can't say, but I don't think it was theirs.  They were probably forced to write the note and send the package, and then were Obliviated."

Lupin shot a glare in Sirius' direction.  Harry's godfather looked at the floor, shamefaced.  The exchange did not go unnoticed by Professor Thornby, but she said nothing.

"Drink," said Bellaton, holding out what looked like a shot glass.  Professor Thornby wrinkled her nose, but she obeyed.  "Faugh!" she coughed.  "Awful stuff."

_"Accio_ Sleeping Potion!" said Bellaton.  There was a crash from the hall as the vase fell over once again, and a green bottle soared into the room.

"Ardoc, really," laughed Professor Thornby as Sirius repared the object yet again.  "I don't think I need that.  I'm tired enough as it is."

"Drink," Bellaton repeated firmly, holding out the small glass again.  She sighed and downed its contents.  Moments later she was stifling a yawn behind her hand.

"Now look what you've done.  I'm going to have to sleep here tonight."  She yawned again.

"I'll get you a blanket," said Bellaton, rising to leave.

Harry and Sirius rose from their chairs, but Sirius made no move to leave.  Lupin gave him a dark look, but Sirius met his gaze evenly.  "I was wondering if I might have a moment alone with Celeste," he said quietly.

Lupin looked as if there was nothing else he would like less, but Professor Thornby laid a hand on his arm.  "Of course," she said.  The smile on her face made it plain to everyone that she had no intention of holding a grudge.  Sirius drew a relieved breath and Harry made his exit, dragging a reluctant Lupin along behind him.

"As if he has the right to ask her for anything," grumbled Lupin.

Harry was tired of his sulking.  "Before you know it, you're both going to be in the wrong," he snapped.

Lupin blinked at the sudden criticism.  Harry was instantly uncomfortable when he realized that he had just corrected Lupin, and rather harshly too.  "Remus, I –" he began.

"Don't," said Lupin, who was looking rather abashed.  "You're quite right.  I'm being self-righteous.  I suppose I'd better wait for Sirius and set things right."  He gave Harry a piercing look.  "You're certainly growing up," he said.  "It's a strange thing when an underage wizard is more levelheaded than adults twice his age.  Your parents would be proud."

Harry felt his face flush.  Lupin smiled gravely.  "Good night, Harry.  Sleep well."  And he turned and walked back the way they had come, leaving Harry alone in the hall.


	24. Cries in the Dark

**A/N: The story continueth.  Once again, many thanks for your reviews!  For those of you who are authors as well as readers, you know that reviews are food for the spirit.  There is nothing better than checking my email and finding new reviews waiting.**

I wanted to make a comment about Harry's personality in this story.  Yes, he probably is a bit too grown-up, but this is a sort of backlash from me against his character in Order of the Phoenix.  Before it came out, I thought that Dumbledore was going to let Harry in on the workings of the resistance against Voldemort.  (I started this story a year before that book was published; one of the very first things I mention is Dumbledore's decision to give Harry more information than he has received in the past.)  I was very surprised when this didn't happen.  I was not satisfied with the eventual explanation as to why, either.  I felt that it was a contrivance so that we could have Whiny Harry for a whole eight hundred pages or however long the book was.  In Phoenix, Harry was a source of constant irritation for me while Ron was more adult about most things.  In my story those roles are reversed a bit, but for my own reasons.  True, I suppose most fifteen-year-old boys are not this levelheaded, but then I am not a boy and I have no brothers.  Harry could have taken either track – the whiny one or the more levelheaded one, and it's a lot easier for him to take the latter when Dumbledore's not keeping him in the dark.  And now for a few quick reviewer responses:

Jedi Buttercup: Glad you like Maturing Harry.  Sirius does seem the type to speak first and think later.  And thank you so much for your continuing feedback (although I will completely understand if you choose not to comment on every chapter)!  I love reading your clear and insightful reviews.  That kind can be rare.

PhoenixTearsp322: Aha, I reply to you yet again!  Excitement!  :-)  I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, and it's nice to know that a few of you like Prof. Thornby.  The idea is that she's been single-minded in her devotion to Dumbledore since her family died, but with Harry and Lupin around, she gets to thaw out her heavily-guarded heart a bit.

totallystellar: It's great to see a new reader tuning in!  Sorry, no Parseltongue in this chapter, either.  I guess I could have just tossed a great snake in the room that Harry would have to talk to in order to – you guessed it – save the day, but it didn't fit just now.  Take heart – if the opportunity arises, Harry will hiss and spit, hopefully to your heart's content.  :-)  P.S.: We'll see Snape next chapter.

Chapter 24: Cries in the Dark

The day of the return to Hogwarts dawned as bright and cheery as a summer morning, but the mood inside Alverbrooke was less than happy.  Now that he had the goal of becoming an Auror, Harry found that he was actually excited to get back to class.  Sirius and Lupin, on the other hand, were very glum.  Sirius was clearly sad to see Harry go.  "Now that the search is back on, I don't think Dumbledore will want me to leave, even in disguise," he lamented.  "I'll be stuck here while Remus has all the fun."  Harry wanted to make him feel better, but he didn't really know what to say.

Lupin seemed sad to see Harry leave, too, but his attention had mostly been on Professor Thornby during the last days of the holiday.  The two of them seldom showed affection when they were around the others, but Harry had glimpsed a few quiet moments between them.  One morning he had looked out his window to see them taking a walk in the snow, their gloved hands clasped together.  Once he and Sirius had made up, Lupin had seemed perfectly at peace.  Sirius remarked that he hadn't seen his friend so contented even during his days at Hogwarts.  But then the morning of the professors' departure came, and Lupin grew just as depressed as Sirius.

To make matters worse, that morning the Daily Prophet finally reported what they had all been dreading: Dumbledore had been removed as Chief Wizard of the Wizengamot.  According to the article, he had been ousted by a combined effort by the Minister of Magic, the Assembly, and the Wizengamot itself.  Harry tried to follow the legal mumbo-jumbo but eventually gave up as no one was contesting the constitutionality of the move anyway.  He hadn't been feeling too low about leaving Lupin and his godfather, but as he absorbed the grim news, his spirits sank considerably until he was just about as unhappy as they were.

Finally Harry was packed and ready to go.  Everyone congregated in the breakfast room to say their farewells.  Harry hugged Lupin and Sirius, and Bellaton shook their hands.  In an unusually unreserved moment, Professor Thornby and Lupin embraced, and she gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek.  After one last goodbye, she Disapparated with a pop.

It had been decided that Bellaton should disguise himself as Harry's uncle this time, as Professor Thornby wanted to be on the train and the Polyjuice Potion would not wear off fast enough to allow her to do both.  Bellaton picked up a glass of sickly pink sludge from the breakfast table.  Grimacing, he downed the potion.  In moments his skin was bubbling and changing.  His body grew fat instead of muscular, his height dropped, and a bristly mustache appeared beneath his nose.  Vernon Dursley soon stood in his place, Bellaton's clothes ripping around his bulk.  With a wave of his wand, Bellaton was wearing in Vernon's usual tweeds.

Bellaton caught sight of himself in a mirror and sighed.  "If this man doesn't lose some weight, he'll never see sixty," he said.  "Well!  Time is growing short, so we'd best be off."

Lupin and Sirius gave them a morose farewell as Harry and Bellaton reached forward to touch a Portkey together.

The two of them reappeared in the same alleyway from which Harry and Professor Thornby had left before.  They hurried around the corner and back into Kings Cross.  When they neared the barrier between platform 9 ¾, they saw the Weasley family standing with Hermione and her parents.

"This is where I'll leave you then," Bellaton said in Uncle Vernon's gruff voice.  "I don't want to fake your uncle's first meeting with the Grangers."

"Okay," said Harry.

"She'll be on the train, but you won't see her," said Bellaton softly.  "Safe journey, Harry."  He glared menacingly at the others, turned, and stalked out of the station.

After accepting a hug from Mrs. Weasley, Harry found himself face to face with Hermione's parents for the first time.  They smiled at him, showing rows of perfect white teeth.  Harry realized that he was supposed to have met them before when he was supposed to have been at Hermione's house, but he couldn't think of anything to say.  Luckily for him, Mr. and Mrs. Granger stepped in before Ginny or the twins could get suspicious.

"Good to see you again, Harry," said Mr. Granger, shaking Harry's hand.  He was a tall man with shiny brown hair, narrow spectacles, and an easy smile that seemed to say 'Nice to meet you'.  Harry liked him immediately.  His wife was a woman of middling height with eyes and hair exactly the shade of Hermione's.  She too greeted Harry with a handshake and a warm smile.  They were both so friendly that Harry thought it might have been nice to have actually spent Christmas with them.

Standing there with the Weasleys and the Grangers, Harry felt a stab of jealousy against his friends.  Hermione's parents couldn't come through the barrier and were already hugging and kissing her goodbye.  There were a few shining tears in Mrs. Granger's eyes as she gave her daughter one last embrace and bid her be careful and study hard.  Harry knew how the Weasleys felt about him and he always had Sirius and Lupin, but they couldn't replace a mother and father.  He would have given anything in the world to be saying farewell to them while his friends did the same with their own families.

All the magical members of the group passed through the barrier, and the students began loading their trunks onto the train.  Mrs. Weasley fluttered around, giving her children, Harry, and Hermione hugs while trying to shoo them aboard at the same time.  While she and Mr. Weasley were helping Ginny with her trunk, George rounded on Harry and began to question him.  "So how was your Christmas at the Grangers'?" he said slyly.

Harry looked up and saw Ron not ten feet away being similarly questioned by Fred.  So Ron had been right; the twins were trying to get them to tell different stories.  What they didn't know was that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had spent a very enjoyable two hours making up their visit with the Grangers.  "Oh, it was fine," Harry said airily, busying himself with his own trunk as if George's question didn't bother him in the least.

"Yeah?  So what's it like to live with dentists, anyway?"

"They have a big house," said Harry.  "Dentists do pretty well, I think."

"What color was it?"

"Red brick," said Harry, still using his offhand tone.

"So it's just the three of them, is it?"

"No, they've got a dog named Dexter.  And before you ask, it was a Cocker Spaniel, light brown with white markings, and it gets on well with Crookshanks.  We had ham for dinner the first night and Ron and I shared a blue room.  Satisfied?"  Harry crossed his arms and looked George in the eye.

George looked at him sourly.  "For now," he said, and walked away.

Minutes later the train was speeding away from Kings Cross.  Harry and Ron, irritated at the twins' continued interference, chose a compartment with Hermione at the opposite end of the train from them.

Harry suddenly remembered what he had promised himself a few days before.  When Hermione moved to sit down, he spontaneously reached over and gave her a great big hug.  He let go and saw that she was blushing furiously.

"What was that for?" she stammered.

"For saving our skins," Harry said.  "You were right about the chocolates."

Her eyes widened.  "I was?  Oh, no… I would rather have been wrong."

They looked up to see Ron's reaction and were surprised by the black expression on his face.

"What's the matter with you?" asked Harry.

"What?  Er… I was thinking about Percy," said Ron, not too convincingly.  Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, but neither commented.

"Well, what happened?" said Hermione, shrugging off Ron's evasiveness.  She waved her wand to create a ward against eavesdropping, and Harry told them about the chocolates, the Dursleys' role, and the fight between Lupin and Sirius.

"Maybe after this Dumbledore will forbid me to go back to Privet Drive ever," said Harry when he finished his story.  "I could live at Alverbrooke over the summer.  Or maybe at the Burrow!"  He looked up at Ron, who had remained very quiet while he talked, staring out the window.

"Ron, haven't you been listening?" said Hermione.

Ron turned on her with a sour expression.  "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for your saving my life and all, but I really can't get Percy out of my head.  I'm going to go see Fred and George; maybe they know what to do about him.  I'll see you back at school."  Before his friends' astonished eyes, he quickly left the compartment.

"What was that all about?" said Harry.

"As if they wouldn't have discussed Percy over the holiday," scoffed Hermione.  "No, we've done or said something to upset him and he's not going to tell us what it is."

"Idiot," said Harry.  "Where did he learn this if-you-don't-know-what's-wrong-I'm-not-going-to-tell-you thing?  It's so like a girl."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Sorry," Harry said placatingly, "but Aunt Petunia did it to Uncle Vernon all the time."

Hermione shrugged.  "Lavender and Parvati do it a lot, too."  She grinned at him.

"How was the rest of your Christmas?" Harry asked conversationally.

"Well, apart from seeing a lovely play in town, not so great," she said.  "I wanted to tell you both, but if Ron's going to be stupid he'll just have to get it secondhand because I'm not going to say it twice."  She drew a deep breath.  "I had another dream."  Harry listened as she described it.  It was different from the one she'd had before; this time, it was Ron who perished after being cursed in a language she couldn't understand.  "There were dozens and dozens of people around, and no one could help him," she said softly.  "But the worst thing was that I just knew there was someone in the crowd who could have saved him, but they decided not to.  I don't know why anyone would do such a thing, but all anyone did was watch."  Her hand trembled a bit in her lap.  "You're the first person I've told.  Even mum and dad don't know, since I didn't wake up screaming this time.  It wouldn't do any good to tell them anyway – they'd just worry."

"You are going to talk to Dumbledore this time, right?"

She nodded.  "As soon as I get the chance, I will.  I'd never have thought it, but… I don't think I can handle this on my own."

They fell into a melancholy silence, thinking of nightmares and Ron's departure.  Harry eventually pulled out the chess set Ron had given him for Christmas, and they spent the rest of the afternoon focusing on a game.  It required a good deal of concentration, too, because the chessmen were suspicious of the players and didn't want to do what they were told.

Ron rejoined them once the train arrived at Hogwarts, but he was in a foul temper and said little to either of them.  He sat next to them at dinner but spent most of his time talking to Dean, Seamus, and Neville.  Even when they went upstairs to their rooms, Ron remained reticent whenever Harry said anything.  When Harry finally tried to call Ron on his cold attitude and Ron was unresponsive, Harry had had enough.

"Fine!  Act like a stupid child for all I care!" he shouted.  Dean, Seamus, and Neville looked between the two of them apprehensively.  "I don't know what either of us did wrong in the first place, and since you won't tell me, you can just sod off."  He climbed into bed and angrily drew the curtains closed around him so he wouldn't have to look at Ron's stubborn face any longer.

**********

Harry was roughly awakened by the sound of pounding on the door to the fifth years' dormitory.  Once again no one else rose to answer, so he rolled out of bed and staggered to the door.  Leonard Fidemont stood there holding a candle.  "Hermione again?" Harry said in surprise.

"Yeah," said Leonard.  "Parvati's waiting for you."

Harry pulled on his dressing gown and met Parvati at the bottom of the staircase.  "I'm really worried," said Parvati as they walked across the common room.  "It's worse than last time.  She didn't even ask for anyone, she just sat there sobbing.  What's going on?"

"I don't know," Harry lied.  "Ron's been a right prat today, but maybe we should get him too."

Parvati looked at him as if he had grown an extra head.  "_No," she said, sounding as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world._

"Why not?"

"She wouldn't want him to see her like this."

"But _I'm about to see her."_

"That's different."

"How is it different?"

"Harry, you may be doing well in Potions this year, but you can be really thick sometimes."

They joined the same group of girls who had escorted Harry up last time – Ginny, Lavender, Katie, and Alicia, who escorted Harry up the staircase without incident.  Hermione's other roommates, who were sitting outside their door, all looked disgruntled.  Lavender sighed and sat down beside them, but Parvati laid a hand on Harry's arm.  "We'll be out here if you need us," she said softly.

Harry pushed open the door.  The sounds that had been filtering through were suddenly magnified fivefold.  They filled the entire room.  Hermione wasn't even sitting up this time; she was lying on her side, facing away from Harry, trembling beneath her blankets.  She was sobbing as if mourning the death of everyone she loved.

Harry paused.  This was not the Hermione he knew.  She was far too… logical… to allow mere dreams to disturb her so.  She had to know that that was all they were.  Didn't she?

He turned and looked at the members of his escort.  They looked back at him with wide eyes, just as worried as he was.  "Go on," whispered Ginny.

Harry entered and pushed the door closed behind him.  Hermione did not look up or cease her crying as he approached, but then she might not have noticed him at all.

"Hermione?" he said softly.  He put a hand on her shoulder.

Hermione let out a fresh wail as full of despair as anything she had uttered before.  Harry decided to do what he had done last time and sat down next to her, trying to pull her up from her prone position.  "It was just a dream," he said in what he hoped was a soothing tone.  He really was no good at this mothering stuff, he thought.  He would have felt less awkward if Ron were there, even though he was a blithering idiot.  At least he would have had someone to feel foolish with.

"W-worse than ever," she blubbered.

"Tell me what happened," he said, and was surprised when she did just that.

"D-Death Eaters and m-monsters... teeth and c-claws… attacked… p-parents… dead!"

"Whose parents?"

"Mine!" she moaned.  "And R-Ron's too…"

"Okay, okay," said Harry, sensing that she was going to start wailing again.  "Hey, c'mere."  He pulled at her sleeve, trying to get her to sit up.  He thought he had an idea of how to calm her down.  "Let's think about this.  You're good at reasoning through things."  To his relief, Hermione sat up partway and leaned against him, still sniffling.

"This must be another one of your… _special_ dreams," said Harry, starting at what he hoped was the most basic level of logic.  She nodded.  "Three has to be more than a coincidence.  I guess the professors were right about you," he said.  She nodded again.  "They feel that real?"

"Very," she whispered.

"But they aren't _actually real," he said, trying to lead her.  "You wake up and things are different."_

"It will happen soon," she said.  Her shoulders began to shake again as new tears fell.  "I know it.  I don't know how I know it, but it will.  They're going to die.  There's nothing I can do.  I can only watch."

Harry stared down at her.  This did _not sound like Hermione at all.  Hermione was resourceful in the face of overwhelming odds.  Yet she sounded so sure about this!_

"How soon?"

She shook her head.  "Very soon."

"Tonight?"

"Maybe… I don't know!"

"Then you'd better not wait to tell Dumbledore now.  But it can't be something that you saw happening when it happened," he said.  "Why would anyone have a talent like that?  That's just sick.  It has to be a warning.  That's what the professors said.  We can do something about it."

Hermione blinked and looked up at him for the first time.  "Maybe…" she said softly.

Hope blossomed in Harry's heart.  At least she had stopped crying and taken the bait.  "I'm going to go get Professor Thornby," he said.  "She'll know what to do."

Hermione suddenly threw her arms around Harry and hugged him so tightly that he thought his ribs would crack.  He reciprocated awkwardly, thinking of how bad it would look if someone took that moment to walk in, but the words she spoke made him forget that line of thought entirely.

"I wish I'd had a brother like you."

For a moment Harry was very still.  He had no idea what to say to something like that, so he merely tightened his grip around her and held on.

"Are they all going to be so terrible?" she murmured.

Harry nearly sighed with relief at the change of subject.  "I sure hope not," he said.

When Hermione finally let him go, Harry stood up to leave.  She didn't say anything, but the way she drew her arms and legs closer to her body told him that she didn't want to wait alone.  Harry went to the door and opened it, motioning for Ginny to come inside.  "Stay with her," he said.  "I'm going to get a teacher."

"Shouldn't you take someone with you?" Ginny frowned.

"Fine, I'll make Ron come, but I'd better get going.  I wouldn't be too happy if I were one of Hermione's roommates right now."

Harry hurried down the staircase without stopping to answer any of the others' questions.  He headed across the common room with every intention of going to wake Ron up, but to his surprise, he found Ron seated in one of the squashy armchairs.

"So she asked for you again and not for me," he said flatly.

Harry was in no mood for this sort of thing.  "Shut up and come with me," he said.  Without waiting to see if Ron followed, he turned and walked out of the portrait hole.  He didn't know whether he was glad or irritated when Ron fell into step beside him.

"Where are we going?" he asked coldly.

"To get Professor Thornby.  And Professor McGonagall too, I guess."

Silence fell for a few blessed moments, but then Ron spoke up again.  "So she had another dream about you?"

"Not about me.  About her parents.  And yours."

"So why did she ask for you, then?"

Harry wanted to grind his teeth.  "She didn't ask for anyone this time," he snapped.  "They just came to get me."

"Still, I don't see why she would rather talk to you than to me.  Is she afraid I'd laugh at her pillow hair or something?"

"Oh, leave _over_," Harry groused.  "That might be just the reason for all we know."  But this wasn't entirely true; Ron's bitter feelings and Parvati's words had made a tiny suspicion arise in his mind.  No, it was preposterous.  Harry quashed the idea as quickly as it had come.

Harry and Ron walked in silence until they reached Professor Thornby's office door.  Harry raised a hand to knock, but the door opened before his stroke could fall.  "I've been expecting you," said Professor Thornby.

"We need you and Professor McGonagall and some Dreamless Sleep potion, I think," said Harry.

Professor Thornby nodded as if she had been thinking exactly the same thing.  "Wait here."

A short while later the four of them were climbing the stairs to the girls' dormitory.  Under the astonished eyes of Hermione's roommates, the two professors slipped into the room.  Parvati pulled Harry aside to speak to him.  Ron glared, but Harry ignored him.

"Ginny hasn't come out," she said, "but I looked in to see how they were doing.  I think Hermione's gone to sleep."

Harry, Parvati, and Ron pushed the door to a bit so they could see inside.  Ginny was sitting on the far side of Hermione's four-poster, humming what sounded like a lullaby, for the moment looking far older than her fourteen years.  Professor McGonagall was gently trying to wake the sleeping girl up.  Hermione woke grudgingly and jerked a bit in surprise when she saw them standing above her.

"Easy, dear, easy," said Professor McGonagall.  "Drink this and you'll have no more dreams tonight."

"I have to see Dumbledore!" Hermione gasped, trying to sit up, but three pairs of hands pushed her back down.

"You need to rest for the night," said Professor Thornby gently, but Hermione would not be dissuaded so easily.

"But it will happen soon!  You said it was a warning!  What good is it if I don't tell anyone?"

The professors looked at each other.  Ginny, like Parvati outside, was absorbing the conversation with wide eyes; neither of them had heard any of this before.

"Who killed who?" said Professor McGonagall, cutting right to the chase.  "Details can wait until tomorrow."

"Death Eaters," said Hermione, her voice trembling again.  "They killed my parents, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley too."

Ron and Ginny jerked, and Parvati gasped softly.

Hermione did not seem to think that she had made the urgency of her message clear.  "Please, I have to see him _now_!  I couldn't bear it if –"

"I will tell him," said Professor Thornby, straightening up.  "Right now.  The Headmaster will see to it that both your parents are safe this night," she said, looking pointedly at both Ginny and Hermione.

"Thank you," said Hermione, sinking back down on her pillow.

Professor Thornby was halfway to the door when she stopped dead in her tracks.  "Did you hear that?" she said quietly.

Everyone was silent, listening.  Harry didn't hear anything, but the people inside the room must have, because Ginny and Hermione both gasped and Professor McGonagall froze.

Professor Thornby strode to the window, threw open the curtains, and stood bathed in silvery moonlight.  "Full moon," she hissed.  Hermione began to weep softly.

And then Harry put two and two together.  _Death Eaters and monsters... teeth and claws… it will happen soon!_

Professor Thornby threw the curtains closed again and fairly ran from the room.  Harry, Ron, and Parvati scrambled to get out of the way.  She hurtled down the staircase as fast as she could go, not bothering to move quietly.

When she had gone, Professor McGonagall made Hermione drink the Dreamless Sleep potion.  "There's nothing you can do," she said firmly when Hermione protested.  "The Headmaster will take care of everything, and all will be well."

Hermione had no other option, so she drank it.  Mere moments later her eyes drifted shut, and Professor McGonagall tenderly tucked her in.  "Poor dear," she murmured.  She exited with Ginny and sent Hermione's roommates back inside.  The only person who didn't grumble darkly was Parvati.  She gave Ron a wide-eyed, sympathetic stare before closing the door between them, and Harry realized that they'd have to have a talk with her soon.  He hoped that she was sensible enough to hold her peace until then.

Professor McGonagall sent Ginny back to bed with every promise that her parents were being seen to, and then led Harry and Ron down to the common room.  "You two need to get back to bed, too," she said firmly.

And then they heard it, faintly and far off, through one of the common room windows – a cold, wolfish howl.  "But – mum and dad!" said Ron plaintively.

"They will be well," she reiterated.  "I expect Professors Thornby and Bellaton will go themselves until the Headmaster can summon some Aurors.  And if either one of you sets just _one toe_ out of your rooms again tonight, I will personally set Professor Snape to guard your door, and he won't like that one bit."

"We wouldn't –" Harry began, but she cut him off.

"I wasn't born yesterday," she said shortly.  "Anytime someone is not handling a situation to your liking, you go haring off to do it yourselves.  Thank heaven Hermione can't go anywhere until morning, at least!  You did well in coming to get us," she said, softening her tone, "but you must leave the rest to me now."  She looked at the windows where moonlight was filtering in.  "Get back to bed, both of you.  I need to hurry."  And with that, she turned and hurried out the portrait hole.

Ron and Harry obeyed and returned to their own dormitory.  Neither of them said anything as they climbed back into bed.  Harry pulled his curtains closed until he was lying in complete darkness.  Professor McGonagall was right - there was nothing he could do that the professors could not, especially not tonight, but that didn't really make him feel any easier.  He lay awake for a long time before he fell asleep again, and the lack of snores from Ron's four-poster told him that his friend was doing the same.  Harry's last thought before finally drifting off was that there was only one thing going right this year, and that was his classes.  Everything else seemed to be going sliding downhill fast.


	25. Unmasked

**A/N:** Hello, everyone!  Welcome to yet another chapter.  This one gave me some problems and took longer than usual to write.

Jedi Buttercup: About Harry giving stuff away to George – they both knew what George was doing, so Harry cut through the crap, but he let George know that he wasn't about to get anything more out of him.  Harry's getting some clues about Ron and Hermione, but he hasn't put it together yet because he's not thinking about it.  There's too much else on his mind.  Plus, he's a teenage boy, yeah.  Thanks for the encouragement!

totallystellar: I think Harry and Hermione have a much simpler relationship than either Harry and Ron or Ron and Hermione.  Harry and Hermione are not attracted to each other, but they're at the age where each one might occasionally wonder if the other is.  When you're fifteen, you're always wondering if someone likes you, and this naturally extends to any and all friends of the opposite sex.  Harry and Hermione are both only children, so I think that each fills a role for the other that neither had growing up.  (Dudley does not count as a sibling.)  Thanks for continuing to review!  Just so you know, you're not the only person to request Parseltongue (see below).

Danae: Hooray, someone else who likes Remus and Celeste!  You're also the second person to ask for Parseltongue.  Thanks for all the kind words – I hope you find everything you're looking for as the story goes on.

PhoenixTearsp322: Hmm.  I'm not sure where I got "leave over" from.  I probably read it or heard it somewhere else first.  I'm actually from Ohio, since you ask.  Thanks for pointing out the typo!  I'll get that changed soon.  I always reread my chapters several times before they get posted, but sometimes little things like that fall through the cracks.  Thanks for letting me know that you appreciate getting review responses!  Your reviews are always thoughtful and really fun to read.

One more note before I leave you all alone: ff.net just added something to the "stats" section of everyone's personal page (after you log in).  I can now see who has got me on their Author Alert list, and boy, there sure are a lot of people on there that I've never heard from!  So all you readers out there, feel free to drop me a review anytime, even if it's just to say "Hi, I like your story."  I know everyone begs for reviews, but I'm not trying to do that.  If you're an author on this site, you'll know how great it is to hear from your readers.  :-)  Whether you read in silence or drop me a note, I hope that you all enjoy the next chapter.

Chapter 25: Unmasked

When Harry's eyes first opened the next morning, he instantly and fully awoke.  He had not forgotten about the events of the night before, and he lost no time in dressing as fast as he could.  In his haste he took no care to be quiet and woke the rest of his roommates.  Dean, Neville, and Seamus grumbled as they drew back their curtains, but Ron fairly flew out of bed and into his clothes.

There were few others at breakfast yet when Harry and Ron arrived, but Hermione was already there.  She looked pale and tired as she picked at the eggs and bacon before her.

"Any news?" said Ron.

"Not yet," she sighed.

Harry and Ron ate silently while the rest of the students filtered down to the Great Hall.  Ginny, Fred, and George all arrived, but only Ginny looked white and worried.

"Aren't you going to tell your brothers?" Harry said softly to Ron.

"No," Ron said, rather curtly.  "What's the point?  If mum and dad are dead… well, we'll all know soon enough."

Harry didn't think that the wait for the mail had ever been so long.  The House tables were full when he glanced up at the staff table to see that Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Professor Thornby, and Bellaton were all missing.  With a start, he realized that Snape was absent, too.  _I thought Dumbledore said he was up and about,_ thought Harry.

The sudden screeching of owls overhead drove Snape from Harry's thoughts.  A small, mottled bird fluttered down before them, carrying three letters: one each for Ron, Ginny, and Hermione.  The recipients tore open their letters with little grace, frightening the owl away.  All three of them sagged with relief, and Harry felt his heart lighten.  Ron held out his note for Harry to see.

_Your parents are well.  Measures are being taken to ensure their future safety._  There was no signature, but Harry recognized Professor McGonagall's hand.

Ron and Ginny beamed at each other, their eyes shining with unshed tears.  A few feet down the table, Fred and George were laughing, completely oblivious to their family's peril.  Neither Ron nor Ginny made any move to inform them of what had happened.  Harry privately disapproved, but said nothing.

Ron and Hermione stumbled down to the dungeons for Potions in a kind of delirious haze.  Harry had to stop Hermione from crashing into a suit of armor more than once.  She had more cause than Ron for weariness, and as they entered the classroom, Malfoy was watching them all with a look that Harry didn't like at all.  "Get ahold of yourself," he hissed at Ron.  "This is Potions, and you've got to keep doing well.  Besides, Malfoy's staring at you."  The double threat seemed to do the trick.  Ron's glazed look became more focused, though the giddy smile remained on his face.  They pulled out their supplies and sat quietly, waiting for Snape – or whoever was teaching Potions – to appear.

When the door to the classroom banged open, everyone jumped.  It was Snape, who was uncharacteristically late.  He usually strode right to the front of the classroom oozing threat and malice all the way, but today he walked very slowly.  The class was silent as they watched him pass.  He was leaning on a cane.

Harry was surprised to feel pity well up inside him.  That Snape was alive at all was a testament to Madam Pomfrey's skill, but he moved with obvious difficulty.  Harry schooled his face to blankness.  Pity on his face – of all people's – would bring Snape's ire crashing down on him like a hawk on a mouse.

The Potions Master finally reached the front of the classroom and turned to face them all.  Though his body was injured, his famous glare had not been diminished in the least.  "Good morning, class," he said coolly.  "As you see, I yet remain to suffer through the torment that is teaching you the art of potionmaking, due to Mr. Potter and Miss Granger here."

Ron and Hermione's eyes grew as wide as saucers.  Harry felt his own do the same.  Had Snape just paid them a _compliment?_

"I am fully aware that many of you dream of my unpleasant demise, but I cannot say I am sorry to disappoint you.  If you should feel the need to vent your frustration… well, you know who to thank."

Harry had to suppress a smile.  Snape _had_ complimented him and Hermione, and he'd done it in the most grudging manner possible.  However, this surprise was nothing to what Harry felt at the end of class when Snape graded his Clarifying Potion.  "Excellent work," Snape said, and Harry stared back at him in shock.  Snape's eyes were narrowed as if he were looking at something that he didn't quite understand.

After Potions, Harry and Ron left Hermione for the Divination classroom.  Harry had long ceased to see the class as anything but a prelude to lunch, and their new activity did nothing to change his opinion.  Amid clouds of choking incense, Trelawney began teaching the class how to use a tarot deck.  It was complicated stuff; the cards signified different things depending on whether they were right side up or upside-down, what cards they were sitting next to, and more.  As usual, Harry wrote it all off as complete nonsense, but the class turned out to be a lot more fun than he had expected.  Ron, who was reading Harry's cards, turned up the Death card right off the bat.

"Well, what do you know?" said Ron.  This class really _doesn't_ go well for you."

Harry prompted Ron to continue, and both of them blinked when the Death card was revealed – again.  Certain that there should only be one, Ron turned up a third card.  The Grim Reaper leered back at them.  "How many of these have we got in here?" he exclaimed.

There was a strangled sound at the table next to them.  Harry and Ron turned to see Dean, Seamus, and Neville trying to restrain themselves.

Ron turned the deck over and spread out the cards with his palm.  Seventy-five Death cards lay before them.

"And I thought you guys liked me," said Harry.  Unable to hold back any longer, the five of them burst into raucous laughter.  Professor Trelawney was not quite so amused, and she actually gave Neville, Dean, and Seamus detention before dismissing the class.

By the time Harry and Ron headed down to the Great Hall for lunch, they had all but forgotten the tension between them from the previous night.  But when Hermione failed to show up at the table, they began to brood again.

Parvati and Ginny took Hermione's absence as an opportunity to question Harry and Ron, but neither felt like revealing what their friend had not.  Ginny was very unhappy when Ron refused, point blank, to tell her anything.  "Like it or not, this concerns me," she said.  "They're my parents too, you know!"

"This isn't about mum and dad," Ron retorted.  "It's about you trying to wheedle a secret out of me."

"Hermione is a Dreamer, isn't she?" Parvati said quietly.

Harry nearly dropped his fork.  Ron and Ginny ceased their argument and stared at her.

"After hearing what she said to the professors last night, it wasn't hard to guess," she said with a shrug.  "I don't think anyone else has put it together yet, though.  They think she's just having some terrible nightmares."  She turned to gaze at Ron.  "So now we know what Hermione's 'unknown potential' is.  I wonder what yours is?"

Ron gaped at her.  Harry was suddenly very wary.  He had never taken Parvati very seriously; she was very pretty, of course, and she certainly wasn't unintelligent, but as she was so often in company with Lavender… he had always written her off as a bit featherbrained.

Parvati gave Harry a wry look as if she were reading his thoughts.  "Give me the right clues and I can put the puzzle together," she said, though no one had answered her question yet.

"There's no proof that the prophecy was about us –" Ron began, but she cut him off.

"Who else would it be about?  I read the _Daily Prophet_ too, and they might have forgotten about it by now, but I haven't.  I don't take the _Prophet_ too seriously," she said, "because I saw the lies they printed about you last year, Harry.  But it all makes sense to me.  First we get the prophecy, and that night Hermione sneaks out of the dormitory.  Why?  To talk to you and Harry, because she thought it was about you three, too.  Second, you start getting high marks in all of your classes.  Third, you act like the Dueling Club is a preparation for war.  Fourth, Harry saves Snape's life with a spell that no one uses anymore.  And fifth, Hermione has a dream that predicts the future.  If you aren't showing unknown potential, who is?"

Harry and Ron sat in silence.  Ginny looked dumbfounded.  "I didn't believe what the _Prophet_ said about the prophecy," she said.  "I mean, come on.  You're just Ron!  My brother!"

"Dumbledore agrees with the _Prophet_," Ron said flatly.  Ginny's eyes grew wide, and he turned to Parvati.  "I don't know what my unknown potential is," he said.  "Maybe it's nothing more than good grades."

"I think you could've always had good grades if you'd really wanted to," she said.  Ron flushed bright red.  "No, if Hermione's a Dreamer, then you'll be something else, too."

"I don't want to be," said Ron, "not if I have to go through what she goes through."

"What are you going to do?" Harry asked Parvati quietly.

She smiled at him.  "I'm not going to say anything to anyone, if that's what you mean.  Not even to Lavender.  She wouldn't believe me anyway."  Her smile faltered and became sympathetic.  "I guess you're not too excited about the sacrifice bit, either?"

"No," Harry whispered.

"I'm glad I'm not you," Parvati said fervently.  "Listen, if you need any, um, help… with anything…"

Harry smiled faintly.  "Thanks," he said.

She smiled back.  "By the way, the Death card indicates a change or transformation, not a physical death."

"Pffft.  In Harry's case, I think Trelawney might disagree," said Ron.

When Parvati had gone to rejoin her friends, Ginny rounded on her brother.  "Why didn't you tell me any of this?" she hissed at him.

"It wasn't any of your business," Ron growled softly.

"None of my business?" she exclaimed, struggling to keep her voice down.  "What about mum and dad?  Do they know what Dumbledore thinks about you?"

"Not sure," said Ron.  Ginny opened her mouth again, and he rounded on her.  "What was I supposed to say?  'Hullo mum, hullo dad.  Thought you'd like to know that a batty old teacher's prophecy names me as Harry's right hand man, so You-Know-Who might be coming for me at any minute.'  Mum would either think I was having delusions of grandeur, or she wouldn't let me come back to school at all!"

"But dad would believe you," Ginny whispered.  Her eyes were full of tears.

Ron's face fell.  "Yeah, he might.  Sorry, Gin."

"You should tell him," she sniffed.  "_Someone_ should."

"Don't do it for me," Ron begged.  "Promise you won't."

"Only if you promise that you will when you see him again," Ginny countered.

Ron nodded.  "Deal."  He went back to picking at his food, and Ginny sat silently, looking downcast.  Harry didn't like to see her so upset, so he began telling her about the debacle with the Death cards.  It worked; after a few minutes she was back to her old self.  When he succeeded in making her laugh, Harry felt a flush of pleasure that he couldn't quite explain.

Hermione had still not returned by the end of lunch, so Harry and Ron walked to History of Magic without her.  Just when they thought she might not show up at all, Hermione slipped into the classroom with Professor Thornby on her heels.  Harry and Ron gave her wide-eyed, questioning looks, but she merely mouthed 'Tell you later.'

"Good afternoon, class," said Professor Thornby, turning to face them all.  She continued talking, but Harry heard none of it.  His full attention was on the sight of a long, white bandage that encased her left arm from the elbow to the wrist.  Ron was staring at it too, and Harry knew that they both had to be thinking the same thing: _Is that a werewolf bite?  Yet Hermione was completely unconcerned, and she never missed anything, so Harry eventually calmed down and tried to focus on the lesson._

As soon as class was over, Harry and Ron crowded around Hermione.  "What happened?" said Ron, wasting no time.

"To me or to Professor Thornby?" she asked.

"Whichever!"

"It's just a scratch," said Hermione.  "No one got bitten, if that's what you mean."

"If it's as long as her bandage, I'd say that's some scratch," said Ron.

"It was werewolves?" said Harry.

Hermione nodded.  "It sounds like it was an awfully close call.  Professor Thornby went to my house and Professor Bellaton went to yours," she said to Ron.  "Dumbledore sent some other help, but he didn't say who."

"So that's where you went," said Ron.

"Well, it wasn't just about our parents," she said.  "He's found someone to train me!"

"What?"

"Another Dreamer!" Hermione whispered excitedly, keeping a careful eye on the other nearby students.  She pulled a dark leather-bound book from her satchel.  "I'm to keep a diary of all the dreams I have, though I think I'll know when I have one of _those_ dreams," she said.  "Miss Flavisham is going to teach me to control them, so I won't keep waking up in terror."

"Who?"

"Don't let the 'miss' fool you," she said.  "She's absolutely ancient and tough as nails.  I think she and McGonagall could be great friends.  Who knows, maybe they are, since I think Miss Flavisham is an old acquaintance of Dumbledore's."

"How on earth do you control your dreams?" said Harry.

"Well, you can't, since you're not a Dreamer," said Hermione, sounding a bit smug.  "But Miss Flavisham says that I should be able to be aware that I'm dreaming, and awareness is the first step to control.  I don't know when you'll get to meet her.  She's gone already, but I can contact her through Dumbledore."  She went on to describe the breathing and relaxation exercises she'd been assigned to do before going to sleep.  Harry didn't see exactly how they would help, but it was better to see Hermione excited about her talent than afraid of it, so he smiled and nodded along.  He hoped that this Miss Flavisham knew what she was about, because there was nowhere else for Hermione to go.

**********

Life at Hogwarts quickly settled back into its old routine.  The fifth years had plenty of work to keep them busy, the Dueling Club resumed its meetings, and Quidditch practice started up again.  Gryffindor's next match was against Slytherin, and it was slated for the middle of February.  This was apparently too soon for Angelina who flogged her team through as many practices as she could squeeze into the schedule.  "We lost to Ravenclaw.  It wasn't bad as losses go, but we can't afford to have Slytherin beat us!  Gryffindors won't be able to hold their heads up!" she railed.

"Not to mention that we'll be virtually out of the running for the Quidditch Cup," said George.

"Dignity and the Cup go hand in hand," said Angelina.

Gryffindor wasn't the only team that wanted to practice.  Slytherin was still smarting from the loss against Hufflepuff.  The fact that their next match was against Gryffindor, which had defeated them for the last four years, only raised the stakes.  Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were both high on their victories, especially since it always seemed to be Gryffindor and Slytherin in the championship match.  They were playing each other in the next match and each was determined to win.  As a result the field was continually booked night after night.  Madam Hooch began parceling out two-hour slots when the team captains complained about the schedule.  This didn't make anyone any happier, but it did stop the complaints.

One Sunday afternoon the Gryffindor team was leaving the field to make way for the Ravenclaws, who had the next two-hour slot.  Harry was on his way out with Ron when he spotted Cho Chang below one of the stands.  She was partially hidden by the wooden trusses but Harry could clearly see her kissing Will Hodges, one of the better looking Ravenclaw seventh years.

Ron looked to where Harry was staring and frowned.  "You'd think they could find a less public place to do that," he said.

With an effort Harry tore his eyes away from Cho and continued back to the school.  She had obviously moved on, but Harry didn't understand why the sight of it should hurt him so.  After all, he'd barely thought of her since the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match.  He wasn't even really interested in her anymore, although she was just as pretty as ever.

Harry and Ron joined Hermione in the library for the rest of the afternoon.  Ron settled right into an essay on vampires for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Harry could barely concentrate on his work.  He stared out the window, watching the skeletal branches of an oak tree wave in the frigid wind.

Finally Hermione sighed and put down her pen.  "Harry, you're distracting me," she said.

"I'm not doing anything," said Harry.

"Right, and it's distracting," she repeated.  "Something on your mind?"

"No," said Harry.

"We saw Cho kissing Will Hodges," said Ron, not looking up from his essay.  Harry punched him on the arm.  Hard.  "Ow!" Ron yelped.

"I thought you were over her," said Hermione.

Harry glared at Ron, but decided that he might as well answer.  "Yeah, I thought so too.  The weird thing is, I still think I am."

"But it hurt anyway," said Hermione.

"A little," Harry admitted.  "How would you know?"

Hermione gave him a wan smile.  "I had a letter from Viktor yesterday," she said.

"From Krum?" Ron gaped.  "I didn't know you were still talking to him!"

"Oh, yes," said Hermione.  "We've become pen pals, more or less.  Every few weeks we write to each other.  The thing is, when last year ended, he liked me in a different way than I liked him."  She flushed a bit under Ron's unblinking gaze.  "I declined his invitation to visit him, of course.  He was rather too old for me anyway.  But we agreed to be friends, and we've been writing ever since.  In this last letter… Viktor wrote about a girl he'd met.  He's playing Quidditch professionally, you know, and she's on the team with him."

"He broke the record for the fastest catch of the Snitch in the Slavic leagues," Ron said excitedly.  "Two minutes!"

"Yes, he wrote about that too," said Hermione.  "Anyway, he didn't say it outright, but I could read between the lines.  He really likes this person – Mariya something or another.  I never really had _feelings_ for Viktor, but it still hurt when I realized."  She sighed and met Harry's eyes.  "It's nice to know that someone thinks you're special, but if it's not mutual… after awhile they find someone else to admire."

"Well, we think you're pretty special, you know," said Harry.  Ron nodded emphatically.

"You're sweet," said Hermione, "but it's not the same thing."

Ron drew himself up.  "If I ever see Krum again, I'll make him sorry he ever hurt you," he said stoutly.

"First you didn't like him because he liked me," said Hermione.  "Now you don't like him because he stopped?"

Ron spluttered.  "Yes… well, you see… he let you down!"

"No, he didn't," she said.  "Viktor was never anything more than the perfect gentleman.  It's just the way things are."

"Well, if he ever _does_ hurt you, I'll make him regret it," said Ron.  Hermione beamed at him.

"Come on, it's six o'clock," said Harry.  "I'm starving."

They joined the steady stream of fifth and seventh years leaving the library and headed down to the Great Hall.  They were talking merrily, waiting for the food to appear, when Ron shivered and looked behind him.  "What's she doing here?" he exclaimed.

Harry turned to look at the staff table.  At one end was an extra chair, and in it sat Dolores Umbridge, the short, toad-like woman from the Ministry of Magic.

Dumbledore tapped on his water goblet a few times and the Great Hall grew quiet.  "Thank you," said the Headmaster, rising from his seat.  "I would like to welcome Miss Dolores Umbridge to Hogwarts.  Miss Umbridge will be with us for the week to observe some classes, so do not be surprised if she appears in your classrooms on more than one occasion.  She will not, however, be involved in the teaching of these classes, which shall otherwise run normally."  Umbridge made as if to rise but Dumbledore sat down again.  The noise level was quickly back to where it had been.  Umbridge, looking quite put out, was left to readjust her napkin.

"A subtle snub," said Hermione.

"Hm?" said Ron absently.

"Honestly, Ron, how can you have missed it?  Umbridge wanted to make a speech, but Dumbledore cut her off."

"Is that what she was doing?  I thought she was trying to scratch herself."  Ron's voice was nonchalant, but he was hunching his shoulders and watching Umbridge with narrowed eyes.

"Dumbledore told me that he was still in full control of Hogwarts," Harry said softly.  "Your dad said that Umbridge was dangerous, Ron!  Why would Dumbledore willingly give her a closer look than she's already had?"

"I don't think she's going to learn anything that she doesn't already know," said Hermione.  "Remember that Malfoy will have filled his father in."

"So?  Nothing good will come of this."

"Maybe Dumbledore is making a statement," said Hermione.  "You know, showing Fudge that he's not afraid of him."

"Well, I think he could find a better way to do it," grumped Harry.

"I don't know, Harry," said Ron.  "Over Christmas break I heard Dad talking about what things are like at the Ministry right now.  _Everyone's afraid of Fudge.  Say anything against him and boom! – you're fired.  If Dumbledore says he's in control, then he's in control, but it's not smart to flat out refuse anything Fudge asks."_

"Well said, Ron!" exclaimed Hermione.  Ron grinned from ear to ear.  "I agree.  Dumbledore could be making the best of a bad situation.  Of course Fudge would try to pin him to the wall."

Harry knew that whether or not his friends were right, there was nothing he could do about the situation.  "Just don't do anything to draw Umbridge's attention," he said darkly.  "She makes my hair stand up."  Ron and Hermione agreed whole-heartedly.

The three of them dropped the subject of Umbridge and turned to other things, but it wasn't long before Harry felt a prickly feeling on the back of his neck.  Something made him turn and look up at the staff table.  Umbridge was staring at him with a small smile on her lips.  Their gazes locked, and her smile widened.  Harry looked away, feeling chilled to the bone.  Her smile had never touched her eyes – they were as cold as ice.

The prickly feeling returned more than once that night, but Harry resolutely kept his eyes on his plate.


	26. Blood in the Water

**A/N: Wow, I amaze myself.  Another chapter in two days.  This one was very easy to write, unlike the last one.  My keyboard should be smoking.  We have some more action in this chapter!  In upcoming chapters there will be more action as well.  About Umbridge – she belongs to JKR, of course, and Phoenix was a year away from publication when I first started this story, but somehow she worked her way into it.  She's just so horribly creepy.**

starrdancerr: Welcome to the story!  I'm glad you're enjoying it.  I agree – there is nothing better than finding a good story that is mostly done (or completed).  That way you don't have to wait for installments.

totallystellar: I think the inspiration dust worked.  You urged me to HURRY UP AND WRITE and bingo!  You can't underestimate that dust.  Ron's talent should be revealed pretty soon.  Mwahaha!

Kaye: Hah, you're a repeater!  I knew your name looked familiar.  What took me so long?  Chapter 25 was a pain.  Hopefully this will mollify you for now.  I hate Umbridge too.  Thanks for the encouragement!

Danae: Nice to hear from you again!  Thanks for your review.  I love the fact that you called the chapter "fantastic".  Hmm, probably not much Remus/Celeste fluff coming up… expect sadness instead.  :-(  The Ministry will make trouble for the low-key romance… Sniff.  (P.S.: I don't usually give away plot points.)

One more note: I addressed the lurkers last chapter.  This time I'd like to say hello to all you reviewers of the past!  You've all given me great feedback and kept me going.  Without you I would have discontinued the story ages ago.  That being said, let's get to the story.

Chapter 26: Blood in the Water

Umbridge turned up in Harry's Potions class on her first day there, much to Snape's obvious chagrin.  She sat in a footstool in a corner, never saying a word, scribbling furiously in a notebook whenever anything was said.  After Potions, she followed the fifth year Gryffindors to Divination, where she ensconced herself in a corner yet again.  She turned up in their History of Magic class and Care of Magical Creatures as well.  Harry thought that the weight of her eyes on his back was going to leave a permanent indentation.

Soon the school was buzzing with the news that Dolores Umbridge was spying on Harry Potter.  Harry knew that it wasn't just him she was interested in; Ron and Hermione also complained of her stares.  The other professors were giving Harry plenty of their own glances, most of them sympathetic.  Professor Thornby was clearly on edge.  Harry didn't feel any imminent danger himself, but supposed that she was being assaulted by waves of warning.

The next morning Harry, Ron, and Hermione were dismayed to see Umbridge at the staff table for breakfast.  She was dressed in a pale pink sweater that looked like cotton candy, and there was a matching silk bow atop her peroxide curls.  She smiled sweetly at them all and took a sip from her coffee cup.

"Ten Galleons says she follows us to Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Harry.

"No bet," sighed Ron.

Indeed, when the three of them got up to leave for class, Umbridge rose from her seat and followed.  She kept her distance the whole way, but she trailed them all the way from the Great Hall to the classroom.  Every time Harry, Ron, or Hermione looked over their shoulders, she gave them a simper from twenty feet behind.

A few groans sounded from the students as Umbridge followed Harry and his friends in.  At the front of the class, Bellaton raised one dark eyebrow but said nothing.  Harry took his seat and stared straight ahead.  Bellaton gave him a shrewd look that Harry did not return.  The students were very quiet; for a minute there was no sound but the soft scratching of Dolores Umbridge's quill on her parchment.

When the bell rang, Bellaton addressed the students as if their guest were nowhere in sight.  "Good morning, class!" he boomed, flashing his white teeth at them.  "I hope you all had a good night's sleep, because you're going to need your energy today.  Everyone up!"

The students stood, grinning at each other.  Practical lessons were everyone's favorite and Bellaton gave plenty of them.

"Today we will be practicing the Patronus Charm," said Bellaton.  Excited chatter broke out around the room.  "Now, the Patronus is –"

"Hem, hem."

Bellaton stopped talking and turned to look at Umbridge.  "May I help you, madam?" he said, inclining his head politely.

"Professor Bellaton, surely you are aware that a scant few of these children will be able to produce anything more than wisps of smoke."

All of the students were staring at Umbridge with expressions of disbelief.  Her voice was high-pitched and syrupy, and she spoke to Bellaton as if she were addressing a very stupid child.  It was not the kind of sound that any of them had expected her to make.

Bellaton smiled broadly at her.  He looked completely unfazed by the interruption.  "As I was just about to tell them, no, I do not expect many of them to manage much on their first day," he said.  "With time and practice, however, they should all be able to manage it."

Umbridge laughed girlishly.  The sound sent shivers down Harry's spine.  "My dear professor, I fear that you are wasting your time, especially since they will never need to use this charm.  The well-being of the magical community's citizens is one of Minister Fudge's highest priorities.  And seeing as there are no significant threats to the community at present, there is no need for your students to struggle with such a difficult charm."

Before Bellaton could reply, Neville spoke up.  "Professor Trelawney said that You-Know-Who is getting stronger."  Several students stared at him in open-mouthed shock.  Shy, quiet Neville was questioning this woman?

A sneer crossed Umbridge's face.  "Yes, your _Professor Trelawney," she said.  "After having observed her class yesterday, I must say that I don't think much of her skills.  Of course, her reputation as a fraud precedes her."_

"She's not a fraud!" cried Lavender.  Parvati looked scandalized.

"Oh, didn't you know, dear?" said Umbridge, her voice dripping sour honey.  "Sibyll Trelawney is indeed descended from the great Seer Cassandra Trelawney, but any gift she possesses is weak at best.  There is no record that she has ever made an accurate prediction in her life."

Lavender burst into tears.  Harry opened his mouth to set Umbridge straight, but Hermione elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Now, now, miss Brown," said Bellaton soothingly.  "Take heart.  I don't know about Professor Trelawney's past, but she made a true prediction that night.  I have seen it done before.  She was Seeing – I would stake my life on it."  Lavender sniffed and smiled tremulously.

"Would you, now?" said Umbridge softly.

By now Harry was feeling very apprehensive.  There was a feral light in Umbridge's eyes that hadn't been there before, as if she were a shark that had scented blood in the water.  Bellaton, however, merely smiled at her as if they were having a chat over tea.

"Oh, indeed," he said.  "Prophecies are not terribly uncommon.  I have heard tell that you have witnessed more than one yourself."

Umbridge gave Bellaton a false smile.  "True, I have.  But there were no members of the Ministry present to hear Professor Trelawney's prediction, so I cannot say what it was like.  Even if she _was Seeing, you will notice that she never mentioned You-Know-Who."  She turned her piercing gaze on Neville who shrank beneath it.  "She mentioned an enemy.  This could be anyone.  Who is to say it did not refer to a personal enemy of hers?  Needless to say, it could not be You-Know-Who, because he was vanquished fourteen years ago and cannot return."_

"That's not true!" said Dean.

"Yes," said Seamus.  "Harry –"

Umbridge opened her mouth again, a triumphant look on her face, but Bellaton spoke first.  "Madam, you have made the excellent point that there are many ways to look at every situation," he said, inclining his head again, "but we are losing valuable practice time.  As much as I appreciate your opinion, I must teach this class as I see fit."

Umbridge was watching Harry.  "Of course," she said, never taking her eyes off him.

For once, Harry didn't feel the weight of her stare.  Dean and Seamus believed him!  They'd never given Harry the impression that they thought he was lying, but they'd never said it outright before.  First Neville, then Parvati, and now them.  Harry's heart felt as light as air.

"As I was saying," said Bellaton, "the Patronus is a guardian that one can summon in times of need.   In order to cast it, you must be thinking of a very happy memory – the best you can summon.  The Patronus can protect against humans and other magical creatures.  It will not block curses or hexes.  Each person's Patronus takes the form of an animal.  Mine, for example, is a lion.  Perhaps I should demonstrate."

The students backed up as Bellaton drew his wand.  _"Expecto Patronum!" he shouted, and from his wand burst a huge lion with a great silver mane.  A few of the girls screamed and everyone backed up.  The lion gazed around at them all for a few moments and then turned in Umbridge's direction.  With a roar it sprang toward her, jaws wide.  Umbridge shrieked and fell off her stool, but Bellaton waved his wand and the creature vanished before it reached her._

"My apologies," said Bellaton, striding over to the fluffy pink heap on the floor.  He extended his hand.  "I fear that our slight disagreement caused my Patronus to run for you.  Of course, it will attack the greatest perceived threat."

"Of course," said Umbridge shakily as Bellaton helped her up.  She resettled herself on her stool and began to scribble furiously on her parchment.

The students were whispering excitedly among themselves.  "Yes, I know you're excited now," said Bellaton, "but as I said before, most of you will produce nothing at all, perhaps for some time.  It will take practice and considerable effort to learn, but if you stick with it, you will all be successful in the end.  Now, the incantation is _Expecto Patronum.   Repeat after me, if you please!"_

They practiced the pronunciation until Bellaton was satisfied, and then he chose five students at random.  They stood in a line, facing a wall ten feet away.  "When I give the signal, you five will cast the charm," said Bellaton.  "Remember, think of the happiest moment of your life.  Ready?  One, two, three!"

_"Expecto Patronum!"_ they chorused together, and a wisp of silver-gray smoke floated from the tip of Dean's wand.

"Excellent, Mr. Thomas!" cried Bellaton.  "Let's try again!"

They went in groups, each casting the Patronus Charm several times before the next group began.  Ron and Neville managed a few wisps of smoke, but of all of them, Hermione was the best beginner.  When she cast the charm, a great deal of mist flew from her wand in a lumpy mass.  By the time class ended, it had begun to form a vague shape, much to her delight.

Harry, of course, trumped them all.  When the silver stag burst from his wand and galloped around the room, everyone burst into applause.  Everyone except for Umbridge, that is, who fell off her stool again when the stag charged her.  Harry made the Patronus vanish in time though he would rather have let it trample her.

"So _that's what you did to Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle at the Quidditch match!" laughed Seamus as they left the classroom.  Harry smiled at the memory._

"You sure know a lot of complicated spells," said Dean.  "You just practice the spell once, and poof!  It works."

Since Harry now knew that they believed his story about Voldemort's return, he decided to go ahead and tell them the truth.  He looked behind him and saw Umbridge following as usual, but she was too far away to overhear.  "Not this time.  Lupin taught me on account of the dementors.  Just don't tell Umbridge."

Seamus, Dean, and Neville all nodded.  "But was it easy to learn?" said Neville.

"No," said Harry.  "It took me weeks and weeks to get it right, but now that I've got it, I can do it pretty much all the time.  Of course, it's a lot harder to conjure when you actually need it."

The others gave him sideways glances, but no one commented.  "You did pretty well today, Neville," said Hermione.  "What's your happy memory?"

"Stunning Malfoy," said Neville, and everyone laughed.

**********

Umbridge continued to follow Harry to class until some of the fifth years – from all Houses – complained to their Heads of House.  Harry wasn't one of those who had spoken up, but he was glad when Umbridge was forced to lurk around some other students instead.  Rumor had it that Dumbledore had spoken to her, but he never confirmed it himself.  Every time anyone saw Dumbledore with Umbridge, he treated her as if she were an honored guest instead of an interloper.

The week went much faster for Harry once Umbridge was no longer breathing down his neck.  Unfortunately, he wasn't home free yet; Umbridge had expressed a wish to watch the Dueling Club in action, and had even suggested a tournament.  This idea was greeted with enthusiasm from nearly all the students, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione distrusted every word that passed Umbridge's lips.  Professor Thornby didn't look too thrilled about it either.  Bellaton, however, calmly said that they had been planning on doing something like this anyway.  He scheduled the practice for that Friday night, but he refused to call it a tournament.

By the time the Dueling Club meeting rolled around the entire school was buzzing with anticipation.  Everyone showed up in the Great Hall at seven o'clock sharp – all the professors, Hagrid, Filch, the ghosts, and every student, including the ones who didn't participate in the club.  All of the members of the staff, save Bellaton and Professor Thornby, seated themselves at the head table.  The students who were just there to watch pulled up benches, but the House tables had all been cleared away.

Although he distrusted Umbridge's motives, Harry was feeling excited.  Ron was practically bouncing on his toes, and Hermione had her game face on.  The Great Hall was filled with an excited buzz.

Bellaton raised his voice above the din.  "Welcome, everyone!  This is going to be an exciting evening.  Tonight the members of the Dueling Club will practice sparring with their peers."  Applause broke out.  "Students will only spar against their classmates – no younger, no older.  The winner of each match will advance to the next round.  Now, don't feel bad if you lose a match!  You are here to learn, after all, and no one is perfect by any means.  Remember that all of you, save one from each year, will lose at least one round.  Take this as a chance to learn from your opponents.  Right!  Are we ready?"

More applause and noise sounded.  The students divided up by year, and Bellaton and Professor Thornby began randomly pairing them off.  When Professor Thornby matched Harry up with Terry Boot, a Ravenclaw, she caught Harry's eye for a moment.  She reminded him of a bowstring that had been drawn taut.  _Caution, her expression seemed to say._

"Madam Umbridge," said Bellaton, striding up to her, "I wonder if you would be so kind as to help us keep the bracket?  I have seen your penmanship and it is nothing short of marvelous.  Perhaps we will keep a permanent record of this day and we need a neat hand."

Umbridge smiled frostily.  "Certainly," she said, and pulled out a clean sheet of parchment.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione smiled at each other.  Umbridge had been taking notes on them all week long; Bellaton had just made it much harder for her to do so.

The first years went first.  Bellaton, Professor Thornby, Snape, and Professor Sinistra were to watch the contests so four pairs could spar at once.  The eight first years faced off against each other and raised shields.  Harry smiled to himself; one and all, they looked nervous and very small.  _Is that what I looked like my first year? he wondered._

Bellaton gave the signal, and the pairs lunged forward.  The watching students cheered their friends and housemates on.  Most of the dueling students looked a bit clumsy, but Harry recognized the forms as they attacked and defended.  Three of the matches were over within sixty seconds, but the fourth went on for three minutes.  It finally ended when Jocelyn Bradshaw knocked Sheldon Grantham's staff out of his hands, and the Ravenclaws cheered like mad.

As the first years battled each other, Harry tried to formulate a plan of action.  It wasn't easy what with the noise, and he knew that plans only lasted so long anyway.  You never knew what your opponent was going to do, so you had to think on the fly.  His victory in the first match was by no means certain; Terry was in the skill group below his own, but there had been talk of moving him up.

Ninety minutes passed before it was the fifth years' turn.  Harry barely noticed the time; he was too wrapped up in cheering for his own House.  Watching Ginny proved to be especially entertaining.  Harry realized that she was getting to be quite good.  She had quick reflexes and even quicker attacks, and her forms were spot on.  She made it all the way to the semi-finals of her year before she was felled by Timothy Armstrong, a Hufflepuff.  They shook hands while Fred, George, and Ron whooped their enthusiasm.

Finally it was time.  Harry was in the second group, and he watched as Draco, Ernie Macmillan, Hermione, and Michael Corner emerged victorious.

"Yeah, Hermione!" he shouted.  Next to him, Ron was shouting much the same thing.

"Right.  You're up!" called Bellaton, motioning Harry and the others over.  Feeling slightly nervous now, Harry moved onto the open floor and faced Terry.  Ron was in this round too, but Harry couldn't think about his friend just then.  He Transfigured his wand into a staff and raised a shield.  Six feet away, Terry did the same.  

When Bellaton shouted "Go!", everything except for Terry Boot flew out of Harry's head.  They both advanced quickly, closing the gap between them.  Harry was quickest and lunged first; Terry's parry deflected his staff, and Harry was on the defensive.  He didn't stay there for long; Terry's attack was off-target and Harry easily deflected it.  Still, his opponent wasn't half bad; Harry had to be on his toes the whole time.  Oblivious to the other sparring pairs, they attacked back and forth until Terry finally failed to block quickly enough and Harry's staff crashed into his shield at the shoulder.

Harry's ears were suddenly full of the sound of cheering.  He looked around to see that he and Terry had lasted the longest; the rest of the Gryffindors were clapping madly.

"Good match, Harry," said Terry, grinning and sticking out his hand.

"You too," panted Harry, grinning back at him.

Ron had won his match, defeating Goyle.  "Bigger isn't always better when it comes to this," he said, twirling his staff.

Hermione beamed at the both of them.  "Oh, well done!" she exclaimed.  "This is _exciting, isn't it?  I'm up against Blaise Zabini next, and she's not exactly a pushover, but I know her weakness, she always favors her right side, so if I come in on the left…"_

She rambled away, and Harry and Ron watched her with a sense of wonder.  This was a side of Hermione they had never seen before.

The rounds continued.  Harry defeated Michael Corner and Hannah Abbot to make it into the quarterfinals.  Ron had to get past Parvati, who proved to be a surprisingly good match, and Kevin Entwhistle to make it that far.  Hermione defeated Megan Jones but lost to Ernie MacMillan in a rather drawn-out match.

There were only eight students left.  Harry was riding an adrenaline wave; even though he was facing off against the massive Vincent Crabbe next, it didn't bother him in the least.  In the end, Crabbe wasn't all that difficult to defeat, as he seemed tired from his previous matches.  Ron won his match, as did Padma Patil and Draco.

They drew straws for the semifinals.  To Harry's dismay, he was paired with Draco.  _It's always the two of us, he thought as the four of them took their positions and raised their shields._

Malfoy smiled coldly from across the floor.  "Ready to go down, Potter?" he said in his most arrogant tone.  He swung his staff lazily from hand to hand.

Harry wasn't fooled.  Draco was going to be hard to best.  "You'll be kissing the floor in thirty seconds, Malfoy," he challenged.

"Go!" cried Bellaton.

Snarling, Draco lunged at Harry.  His attack was so swift that it was all Harry could do to keep him from him.  Parry, parry, parry…  Draco pressed his attack, forcing Harry backwards.

_Get out of this!_ Harry's brain shouted, and his reflexes finally kicked in.  A split second later it was Malfoy who was backing up while Harry moved his staff as fast as possible.

Harry was beginning to tire.  If he made it to the final match, he knew he wasn't going to be in top form unless he ended this round quickly.  At the moment Draco was pressing his advantage; Harry had only a split second, but he had decided what to do.  Just like he had done with Bellaton, Harry pretended to stumble.  Draco rushed forward with a cry of triumph.  Harry brought his staff streaking upwards and got a shock when it met Draco's with a sharp CLACK.  But something else was taking over Harry; he barely knew what he was doing as he felt himself evading certain defeat in a way he never had before.  He twisted like a snake, Draco staggered backwards, and Harry swung his staff as hard as he could.  It crashed into his opponent's side, bringing him to the floor.

Applause erupted in the Great Hall.  Draco stared up at Harry from his back with disbelief on his face.  "You've never done that in class before," he said suspiciously.

"It's those Seeker reflexes," Harry said evasively, feeling certain that he'd just performed another of Professor Thornby's moves.  He stretched out his hand to help Draco up.

"I'd sooner accept help from a Mudblood," Draco spat, and rose by himself.

"Suit yourself," said Harry, turning away.

"Stop," said Professor Thornby, and they obeyed.  "Shake hands."

Harry and Draco turned to face each other.  With mutual loathing, they shook and let go as quickly as possible.

"And in the final match we have Harry Potter and Ron Weasley!" said Bellaton.

Harry blinked; he'd forgotten about his friend.  A slow smile crept over his face.

"Oh, great," called Fred over the din.  "Now we don't know who to root for!"

"You root for your own flesh and blood, you idiot!" shouted Ron, and general laughter followed.  "Well, this ought to be fun," he said in a quieter voice.  "If you do whatever you did to Malfoy I won't last ten seconds."

"Don't bet on it," Harry said softly.  "I'm not sure what I did."

Ron grinned at him.  "Good luck."

"You too."

They faced off.  Silence fell on the Great Hall as Bellaton raised his arm.

"Go!"

Harry and Ron moved forward, wrists moving as fast as possible.  Ron was good – very good.  He was at least as fast as Draco had been.  Even though his brain felt like it was overloading, Harry had the fleeting idea that all that Keeper training was probably benefiting Ron here.

Back and forth they went.  Harry watched Ron carefully for an opening; it was a long time before he saw one, and the moment he did, he pounced.

The next thing Harry knew he was lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling.  He felt strangely disoriented.  The sound of very loud cheering filled his ears.

"Harry?  Are you all right?"

He blinked.  Professor Thornby was bending over him.

"Yes."  Harry sat up and little explosions went off in his head.  "Ow," he said, rubbing his scalp.  He looked up to see Ron standing a few feet away with one hand over his mouth.  He thought for a moment about the last thing he remembered.  "Ron… did you _feint?" he said._

"I didn't think it would work!" Ron exclaimed.  "Are you okay?"

"Ugh," said Harry, rubbing his head.  "Did you hit me twice?  What happened to the shield?"

"You hit the floor.  Sorry."  Ron stretched out his hand, and Harry took it.

"Good job, mate."  Harry squeezed his friend's hand.

"Thanks," said Ron.  He grinned around at the cheering Gryffindors.  Fred, George, and Ginny were going absolutely wild.  Hermione was clapping her hands and bouncing up and down.

Professor Thornby took Harry's arm and led him over to Madam Pomfrey while Ron savored his victory.  The matron gave Harry two aspirin and a glass of water, and through the uproar Harry was certain that he heard her mutter the words "barbaric" and "dark ages" more than once.

Harry spent the rest of the night sitting on the bench, but plenty of people came up to congratulate him.  He was actually getting tired of saying "thank you" by the time the contest ended, but Ron was clearly enjoying every moment of the spotlight.

Angelina Johnson finally trounced a seventh year Ravenclaw to become the night's final victor.  The staff applauded, the students cheered, and congratulations were passed all around.  By now Harry had retreated to a dark, relatively quiet corner.  His head was still throbbing a bit, so he waited while the students and staff exited en masse.  It was there that Ron, Hermione, and Neville found him.

"Feeling all right?" said Hermione, leaning forward to peer at Harry's head.  "Ooh, you're getting a lump."

"It'll go away," said Harry.

"Gee, I'm really sorry," said Ron.

Harry smiled up at him.  "Not sorry enough for a rematch, though," he said.

"Yeah, you're right.  I won fair and square."

They waited there, talking softly while the last of the students and staff left.  Neville was bemoaning his bad luck; he had been matched with Draco during the very first round.  Even though he had put up a good fight, he wasn't as fast as Draco.

"I think I could have gone a lot farther if I hadn't had to fight Malfoy right away," Neville sighed.

"Of course you could have," Hermione said stoutly.  "You're in the top group in the Dueling Club."

"With the three of you," said Neville with a smile.

"And Malfoy.  He was really good," Harry admitted.

"I'm just glad _I didn't have to fight him," said Ron._

"Hem, hem."

They all froze.  Harry looked across the room to see that everyone had left except for Dolores Umbridge and Professor Thornby.  His guardian was looking at the Ministry official in surprise, interrupted in her task of restoring the House tables to their places.

"Can I help you?" she said.

"What have you been teaching him?" hissed Umbridge.

"I beg your pardon?" said Professor Thornby, sounding genuinely confused.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville pulled back into the shadows.  This sounded interesting.

"The Potter boy shows exceptional promise with weapons," said Umbridge.  "I find it difficult to believe that after less than a year of training he should be so skilled."  She took a step forward, her eyes glinting.  "You have been giving him private lessons at Hogwarts, have you not?"

"No, I have not," said Professor Thornby.  "He is in the most advanced group, so he has progressed beyond most of the student body.  But surely you've noticed that he isn't the only student with talent?  You do the others a disservice, especially Ronald Weasley."  She made no effort to disguise the contempt in her voice.

"True, there are others.  Yet Potter nearly won the contest."

"Among other fifth years."

"I am beginning to think that he could defeat the best of the seventh years."

"And I am beginning to think that you'll believe whatever you like no matter what I say."

Ron silently gave the air a little punch of approval.

Umbridge stepped even closer to Professor Thornby, a hungry smile on her lips.  Professor Thornby stared down at her from her much greater height, arms crossed, looking at Umbridge as if she were a bug that she might decide to step on at any moment.  "You are treading on dangerous ground," said Umbridge softly.  "If you were wise, you wouldn't wish to make an enemy of me.  I intend to find out exactly what you are doing at this school."

"I will enjoy the spectacle," said Professor Thornby dryly.

Umbridge curled her lip one last time and waddled from the room.  Professor Thornby remained absolutely motionless, and when Umbridge had gone, she turned her head and shot a frosty stare right at the hidden Gryffindors.  Harry knew that she couldn't see them in the shadows, but of course she knew exactly where he was.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville waited until Professor Thornby had departed before venturing out into the hallway.  "Wow," breathed Neville.  "How did she know we were there?"

"She's, er, pretty observant," said Ron.

"I wish she'd just fillet Umbridge now and get it over with," Hermione said bitterly.  The others gaped at her.

"Has all this fighting gone to your head or something?" said Neville.

Harry was thinking about something he had heard.  "I think it's time we found out exactly what _Umbridge is doing here," he said._

"She leaves in the morning," said Hermione.  "I don't think you're going to learn anything more than you already know, at least not right now."

"She's spying on you and Dumbledore, Harry," said Neville with a shrug.  "Everyone knows that."

"Yes, exactly," Harry murmured.  "Everyone knows that."  _And that's exactly why there's something else going on here, he thought._

They headed back to Gryffindor Tower.  Ron, Hermione, and Neville chatted animatedly the whole way, but Harry pondered as he walked, chewing on the threat Umbridge had made to Professor Thornby.  He knew it was ironic, but Harry had begun to feel strangely protective of the woman who was supposed to be _his guardian.  Maybe it was because of Lupin; he didn't know much about love himself, but he strongly suspected that if anything happened to Professor Thornby, Lupin would be crushed.  Harry wasn't sure why Umbridge had singled her out, but he was determined not to let her succeed in whatever nefarious plan she was concocting.  It wasn't just for Lupin's sake, though.  Professor Thornby was a friend, and Harry wasn't the type to stand by while his friends were in trouble._

_Better watch yourself, Umbridge, he thought.  __You're meddling with the wrong people._


	27. The Invitation

**A/N:** Fast fly Gabriel's fingers over the keyboard!  Of course, I thoroughly read and review each chapter before posting, but these chapters are going exceedingly well.  Most of the next one (or the one after that, depending) is already written, so expect another update after this fairly soon.  Bit of fluff coming up at the end of this chapter.

I want to just say a few things before getting to the responses.  I've figured out why it felt awkward for me to put Umbridge in my story, even though she seemed to belong there.  Since she only existed in Phoenix, I've had to introduce her outside of canon.  It feels like stealing, but that's not what I've been trying to do.  Oh, and I've passed 100 reviews, and I got a whole bunch for chapter 26 (see below)!  Thank you all!  Enjoy the next chapter!!

Buffy Summers1: Welcome to the story!  I don't know how long you've been with it, but it's great to hear from you.  I'm glad you think it's high quality – a well-written story is my ultimate goal.

Kaye: Thanks for reviewing again!  I hope another update so fast makes you happy.  About your question – Harry thinks Umbridge is doing some sleight of hand.  It's like watching a magician do a trick.  He'll keep you busy watching one hand so you don't see what the other one is doing.  Likewise, Harry suspects that Umbridge has an agenda that she's hiding by being so obvious in what everyone sees her doing.  I'm glad someone else likes Professor Thornby.  I think she's fun too.  Get over that stomach virus soon, okay?  Let this story be your chicken soup.

Jedi Buttercup: Thank you so much for continuing to review!  Heh, I'm glad someone liked the Patronus thing.  I don't think Parvati needs to be as bubbleheaded as Harry perceives her to be.  She's just waiting to be discovered.

phoenixtearsp322: Does Snape have a soft side?  I think he does, but it will be hard to drag it out, and I doubt Harry will be the one to do it.  What we have here is a case of grudging respect.  Hmm... killing Umbridge.  Might do that in a later story.  I'm so glad you liked the language I used!  Variety is the spice of life.  And while we're on the subject of vocabulary... "ire" means the same thing as "anger" or "wrath", so that's what I was going for.  I hope this doesn't stop you from continuing to nit-pick.  No one else is doing that and you're filling an important role.  One of the best ways to improve one's own writing is to read extensively.  So there you go, a new word for "anger" to put in your arsenal.  Just so you know, I really look forward to your reviews of each chapter.

totallystellar: That inspiration dust is really doing its thing.  Keep sprinkling it and this story will be over before you know it, but like I said before, a sixth year story will follow!  As for Bigelow the gigolo... heh.  This is a pretty clean story, but I don't know what he was like in his salad days.  ;-)

Danae: Yeah, isn't Lupin a sympathetic character?  He definitely needs some love.  He and Celeste may have to walk through some fire in the future, but stay tuned... we've got some Remus/Celeste fluff in the next chapter.  Or the one after (as I said before, it depends on how things fall out).  Ron's potential will be revealed VERY SOON!

Quill: Nice to meet you!  I am making quick updates a habit as best I can, as long as they come out right.  When they don't it can be really frustrating for me to get them to work.

chuckleseviltroll312: Dumbledore would have turned down Fudge's request to put Umbridge at the school for a week if he thought he could afford it.  As it is, both sides are walking on eggshells.  Dumbledore isn't ready for open conflict with Fudge (more open than it is already, anyway).  Fudge is chipping away at him, but he's not ready for open war yet, either.  How many chapters?  As many as it takes, but like I said, the story will continue past the end of this one.  Nice to see your name in the reviews again!

Chapter 27: The Invitation

Umbridge's departure was met with relief from just about everyone.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione went over the _Daily Prophet with a fine-toothed comb nearly every day for two weeks after she left, but her visit was never mentioned.  Neither did any editorials on Harry, Dumbledore, or the state of Hogwarts appear.  The whole affair was a source of confusion for Harry.  He was sure that Umbridge had been using her very obvious spying as a coverup for something else, but there was no telling if he was right.  Umbridge was a wild card that could come into the game at any time.  The idea was not exactly comforting._

With the Umbridge hiccup gone, Harry's life settled back down once again.  Then again, settled didn't really describe any of Harry's days.  He was busy from sunup to sundown, especially with Quidditch.  Angelina had developed a new move called the Sloth Grip Roll, and the Gryffindor team spent every moment they could get on the pitch.  Between that and his homework, Harry was swamped.  He even considered skipping the Dueling Club meetings, but Ron and Hermione convinced him to keep going.

Ron was riding a wave of popularity, as were all the victors from the informal tournament.  He found himself talking with upperclassmen who had barely spoken to him before, and groups of girls would titter in the hallway whenever he passed by.  He preened a bit under all the attention, and both Harry and Hermione thought him a bit silly, but they left him alone.

Things were going rather well for Harry.  He was excelling in all of his classes, including Potions.  Snape's limp was gradually vanishing and he was getting about without the help of a cane.  When the crutch vanished, so did some of his extreme irritability.  Snape was never friendly to Harry, but he had stopped cutting him down at every opportunity.  He even gave a very faint word of praise now and then when he gave Harry his marks for the day.  Usually the praise was masked by a derisive comment, but Harry had learned to see it for what it was.

When he thought about it later, Harry decided that he should have seen it coming.  His life was seldom ordinary; whenever a period of quiet seemed to be settling in, something happened to disturb the balance.  This time the scales were tipped by the rushing of great white wings.

One ordinary morning, a small army of beautiful white owls soared into the Great Hall with the rest of the Owl Post.  The students pointed excitedly, but the owls all landed on the staff table, one before each professor.  All, that is, except one.  Harry blinked as a lone snowy bird fluttered down before him.  It stretched out its leg and Harry took what it was grasping.  It was a letter in a smooth, creamy envelope.  On the front it read "Harry Potter, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry" in delicate calligraphy.

"Oooh, what's that?" said Hermione, leaning over to look.

"I don't know," said Harry.  He flipped the envelope over.  On the back was a seal in red wax with a little coat of arms in it.

"That's the Ministry's seal," said Ron.  "Sometimes Dad gets letters from work, and those are always on them."

"What does the Ministry want from me?" said Harry, breaking the seal and pulling out the envelope's contents.  The parchment inside was of the finest quality, thick and heavy.  There was a silver border that rippled and flashed as if covered by a fine sheen of water.  In the middle, in perfect black script, was the message.

_Minister Cornelius Fudge_

_requests the honour of your presence_

_at the six hundred and fifty-fourth Ministry Gala_

_on Saturday, the sixth of March_

_at seven o'clock in the evening_

_The Grand Ballroom_

_Ministry of Magic, London_

Harry looked up at the staff table.  The professors were smiling and laughing with each other over their letters.  Several of the students were looking between them and Harry, obviously wondering what they had received.

"This looks like a big deal," said Harry.  "How come only I got one?"

"I don't know," said Hermione.  Ron shook his head.

"Why would Fudge invite me to a party?" said Harry, shaking his head.

"It sounds awfully formal," said Hermione.  "The honour of your presence...   I wonder who else got them besides the professors?"

For the rest of the meal, Harry, Ron, and Hermione theorized about the letter while the other students whispered and pointed at them.  The murmurs only got worse when a very high-spirited Professor McGonagall came walking up to the Gryffindor table.  "Potter, you will come with me," she said.  "Bring your letter."

Harry exchanged a last look with his friends before following her out of the Great Hall.  She led him to a small room where Professor Thornby and Dumbledore were waiting.

"I thought you might like to know what this is all about," said Dumbledore, holding up his own letter.

"Yeah, that'd be nice," said Harry.  "Why did I get one of these if no one else did?"

"Because of who you are," said Dumbledore.  "The Ministry Gala is a very old tradition in our society, dating back hundreds of years.  It is a very formal dinner and ball given by the Minister of Magic whenever he sees fit.  It began as an annual event, but that is no longer the case.  Nearly a decade has passed since the last Gala.  All Ministry employees from the Aurors down to the janitors are on the guest list.  The Minister himself invites the most important witches and wizards of the day.  It is traditional to include the Hogwarts teaching staff, but it is very rare for underage wizards to be personally invited."

"But Fudge hates me," said Harry.  "Why didn't he just leave me off the list?"

"He doesn't hate you – he's afraid of you because deep down he knows you've been telling the truth these past few years," said Professor McGonagall.  "You were invited because you are simply too important to overlook.  Failing to include the Boy Who Lived would have been seen as an unforgivable slight to you."

"Do I have to go?"

"Don't you want to?" said Professor Thornby.

"I didn't have much fun at the Yule Ball last year," said Harry.

"You will not be the only student there, if that is what bothers you," said Dumbledore.  "You are allowed to bring a date, and I daresay that all nine Weasleys will be there."

"Really?" said Harry, his spirits lifting a bit.

"Children of Ministry employees are welcome to attend.  Above a certain age, of course," said Professor McGonagall.

"And they can bring dates, too?"

"Yes," said Professor Thornby.

"Okay, then one of us can ask Hermione," said Harry.  "That's not so bad, then."

"This is a very formal occasion," said Professor McGonagall.  "You will need a new set of dress robes – very tasteful ones, I should say – and you will _certainly need to learn how to dance.  It will not do to look a fool in front of Minister Fudge."_

Harry cringed at the memory of last year's ball.  Parvati had done most of the leading; he had had no clue of what he was doing.  "How am I going to learn that?"

"Oh, I can teach you to dance," said Professor Thornby.  "You'll be the belle of the ball before I'm finished with you."  She laughed at the horrified look on Harry's face.  "Don't worry, I'm only joking.  In fact… we could hold dance lessons in lieu of the Dueling Club for a few weeks."

"Why would you need to teach everyone else?" said Harry in confusion.

"There are hundreds of Ministry employees," said Professor McGonagall.  "Add in their children and all the escorts, and this will be the event of the year, Potter.  You wouldn't believe how many people find a way to come."

"But nobody else…" began Harry.

"None of the other students yet know that they will be able to attend, no," said Dumbledore.  "But I expect that within the week all the Ministry employees will have received their invitations, and then this bleak midwinter mood should lift considerably."  His eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles.

By the time Harry left the small conference, every student seemed to have found out the contents of the letters.  Harry re-entered the Great Hall to find every female eye turned to him.  There was a predatory gleam in them that made him uneasy.

Harry told Ron and Hermione what the professors had said.  "Oh, cool!" said Ron when Harry told him that he'd be going too.  He didn't seem to notice the hopeful glance that Hermione threw his way.  "This is lucky – I'm finally going to get some attention from the girls."

"More than you're already getting?" Harry muttered.

"What'd you say?" said Ron.

"Nothing," said Harry.  Hermione smiled at him knowingly and took a bite of her oatmeal.

"I mean, no one ever thought I was special or anything," Ron prattled on.  "But then I made Keeper and won that tournament, and now this!  Of course, I don't think it will last or anything.  I'm just going to enjoy it while it's here."

"_I_ think your head's too big already," Harry said under his breath.  Next to him, Hermione choked on her oatmeal.

"What's that?" said Ron.

"You're hearing things," said Harry.  He slapped Hermione on the back and she took a gulp of orange juice.

"What's _wrong_ with you two?" Ron said suspiciously.  Hermione covered her mouth in an unsuccessful attempt at stifling her laughter.  "Okay, what did I do?" he demanded.

"You're just so _funny_," said Hermione, and she left the table, giggling behind her hand.

"Don't ask me about girls," Harry said innocently when Ron turned his glare on him.  "You saw how well the thing with Cho went."

"Barking mad," said Ron.  "I've been saying it for years."

"Takes one to know one," Harry muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing."

**********

Harry was not especially looking forward to learning how to dance.  He knew that it would be better to know how to do it than not, but the Yule Ball had been so unpleasant that he preferred not to think about dancing at all.  After dwelling on the idea all day it was a relief to throw himself into the Dueling Club.  All the members attacked their lessons with renewed fervor regardless of how they had performed in the tournament.  All four Weasleys especially made an effort.  Ron seemed eager to retain his position at the top of the fifth-years' food chain.  Fred and George had done well enough themselves, but they seemed more interested in coaching Ginny, who had performed so admirably.  Ginny spent her time trying to get them off her case.  When the class ended and the students were leaving they were still engaged in their verbal joust.

"That's our little sister," said Fred, ruffling Ginny's hair.

"Knock it off," she said, pulling away.  "You don't know as much as you think you do.  Why don't you bother Ron for a while?"

"Hey!" said Ron.

"But Gin, we're so keen to see you succeed," said George.  "With that talent, you could grow up to be something really cool.  An assassin, maybe."

"Assassin?!"

"A perfect little spitfire assassin," said Fred.

"I'll show you a spitfire," Ginny growled as she attacked.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione laughed.  "Come on," said Harry.  "I need to get started on that Potions essay."

"A moment if you please, Harry," said Professor Thornby.  Harry and his friends stopped, and Ginny and the twins ceased their tousling.  "What do you say to your first dancing lesson?"

Harry glanced sideways at his friends.  "Don't you want to wait until everyone else is –"

"You'll learn more one-on-one than you will in a group lesson," she said.  She pointed her wand at a corner where a black cloth was covering something lumpy.  The cloth flew away to reveal a tidy arrangement of stringed instruments.  "Our music," she said.  "Come."

"He can jinx with the best of them, but can he dance?" George said loudly.

"This ought to be good," said Fred.  The others grinned at him; Harry fought the urge to stick out his tongue at the twins.  Professor Thornby clearly wasn't giving Harry a choice, so he reluctantly walked up to her.  Behind him, the others settled themselves onto benches to watch.  He wished they would leave and spare him the impending humiliation.

"Right," said Bellaton.  "You're going to learn a simple box step first.  So when the music starts" – he waved his wand and the instruments began to play – "you step forward with your left foot, then bring your right foot up and to the right, like so…"

Harry followed the directions, stepping around in a little square.  It really wasn't that difficult, he decided.  Learning how to stand with a partner was harder than the box step itself.  "Sturdy, not stiff," said Professor Thornby as Bellaton adjusted Harry's stance.

"There's a difference?" said Harry, feeling bewildered.

"You'll get the hang of it," said Bellaton.  "The best dancers can lead even inexperienced partners around the floor with ease.  Learn to lead, and your partner will do whatever you make her do.  Come on, it's time to try the step as a pair."

"I'm going to step on your feet," Harry said to his guardian.

She smiled back at him.  "We'll see."

Bellaton waved his wand around like a baton.  "Aaand one, two, three, begin!"

Harry surprised himself by stepping in the right direction and then by doing it again.  Professor Thornby followed him around in the little square.

"See?  You're doing it!" said Bellaton.

"Go for it, twinkletoes!" shouted Fred.

"This'll be you in a few days," Harry retorted, and his friends laughed.

"Okay, keep going," said Bellaton.  "We're going to start moving around a bit now, because it gets boring just moving around in one spot.  When you step back, just step a little farther and turn your body a bit… that's it…"

Harry grinned.  They were traveling around a little now.

"Excellent," said Bellaton.  "Next is the underarm turn.  When you step forward with your left foot, raise your right arm and –"  Bellaton broke off.  Harry had stopped dancing, and Professor Thornby stopped with him.  She had completed a perfect turn before Bellaton had barely begun to describe it.  The motion had felt as natural to Harry as breathing.

Harry stared at his guardian.  "You wouldn't happen to be a good dancer, would you?" he said quietly, hoping his voice wasn't carrying.

She gave him a slow smile.  "I've been told that I am an excellent partner," she said, getting the message immediately.

"This is so weird."  Harry rubbed his forehead, trying to pinpoint the moment when knowledge of how to do the foxtrot had popped into his head, but he couldn't find it.  Somehow he knew that he could lead Professor Thornby around the floor without any more practice.

"Well, at least you know that you won't embarrass yourself now," she said.  She glanced over Harry's shoulder at Hermione and the Weasleys.  "Perhaps it's best if you don't show off too much at present."

Harry sighed inwardly.  Fred, George, and Ginny didn't know about his recent tendency to suddenly gain Professor Thornby's skills.  He didn't like having to keep a secret this size from them, especially when he saw no reason to do so.

Harry and his guardian stepped apart.  Hermione and Ginny made sounds of disappointment.  "Oh, why stop now?" said Ginny.  "You were doing so well!"

"I don't want to keep you from your homework for long," said Professor Thornby.  "There's that Potions essay you were talking about."

"But this is so much more fun than Potions!" said Hermione.

Fred and George stared at her as if she had grown an extra head.  "Wow," said George.  "Did you hear that, Fred?"

"I heard, but I don't believe," said Fred.

"Oh, shut up," said Hermione.

"Well, we could give you a demonstration if you like," said Bellaton.

"Oh, yes!" Ginny and Hermione chorused together.  Ron rolled his eyes.

"How about a Viennese waltz?" said Professor Thornby.  "It's just about as elegant as you can get, and you'll see it quite a bit at the Gala."

"Excellent choice," said Bellaton, waving his wand at the instruments.  The bows picked themselves up and began to slide back and forth over the strings.

The two professors faced each other in the middle of the room.  Bellaton bowed and Professor Thornby curtsied.  They effortlessly stepped into position, and with that they were off.  They swept around the room in a large circle, turning as they went.  Harry watched Bellaton's feet.  He didn't feel as if he could just grab Ginny or Hermione and imitate him perfectly, but he could see the pattern in what Bellaton was doing.  Harry knew that before tonight it wouldn't have made any sense to him whatsoever.

Everyone clapped when the song ended.  A starry-eyed Ginny and Hermione were the most enthusiastic.  "Oh, will you teach us that one?" begged Hermione.

Bellaton's short black beard made his teeth look very white when he smiled.  "Of course," he said, "although I don't know how many of you will be able to manage it before the Gala.  We only have a month until the big night.  But if your partner knows what he's doing, ladies, he can twirl you all over though you barely know the steps yourselves."

Hermione and Ginny looked surreptitiously at Harry.  "Don't look at me," he said, raising his hands.  "I've only been doing this for ten minutes."  The looks they shot back at him showed that they were not convinced.  Fred and George were eyeing Harry in a way that made Harry rather nervous.  If he continued to pull off these surprises, he wouldn't be able to put them off forever.  He hoped that Dumbledore would let him tell them about last summer before they went looking for themselves.

**********

The children of the Ministry employees found out the good news sooner than Dumbledore had predicted.  Within three days the entire school was buzzing.  Students who were not affiliated with the Ministry at all were looking for ways to get to the Gala.  There were suddenly many more 'eligible bachelors' around, and Harry was relieved when the pressure on him lessened.

Students were beginning to pair off, and Harry could see that McGonagall had been right – there would be many underage witches and wizards at the ball, many of whom he knew.  Fred lost no time in inviting Angelina.  Ginny asked Michael Corner, a fifth year Ravenclaw, and the twins teased her mercilessly when they found out.  Ron, however, took to glowering at Michael anytime he was in view.

George came up with a clever scheme to get more of his friends to the Gala.  "I wanted to ask Alicia," he said, "but she's automatically invited because of her dad.  So I asked Katie and Alicia asked Lee, and now all of us will be there!"

Harry hadn't quite decided who to ask yet.  Hermione and Ginny had both crossed his mind, as they were the two girls he knew the best.  Ginny was already taken, though, and he wasn't sure if Ron wouldn't rather ask Hermione.  Harry remembered well their argument after the Yule Ball; he wondered if Ron would take this chance to mend Hermione's feelings.  _She shouldn't be a last resort for anyone, he thought._

Cho also popped into Harry's head for a brief while.  He had never ceased to admire her physical beauty, but they hadn't really talked since the Quidditch match.  She had looked as if she wanted to apologize back then, but Harry hadn't let her, and now it would be up to him to bridge the gap.  He wasn't sure that he wanted to.  The problem was solved for him when he saw Will Hodges corner her in the hall to ask her to go with him.  Her little squeal of delight was enough to tell Harry what her answer was.

When several days had passed and Ron had still not asked anyone to go with him, Harry decided to broach the subject of Hermione.  Whether it was with him or with Ron, Harry was determined that she would be coming.  On the way down to breakfast one morning, he very bluntly asked Ron about it.

"Hermione?" said Ron.  His voice was more high-pitched than usual, and he looked distinctly alarmed.

"Don't flip out on me," said Harry, giving Ron a strange look.  "I just thought that after last year you might want to make it up to her."

"Oh," said Ron.  "Well, you see… I can't."

"What do you mean, you can't?" said Harry.

"Susan Bones asked me," said Ron, blushing to the tips of his ears.  "Her grandmother is Amelia Bones, the Second Witch of the Wizengamot.  Well, I guess she's the Chief Witch now that Dumbledore's gone, I'll have to ask Susan –"

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?" Harry snapped.  "I've been waiting for _you to ask Hermione.  She's probably feeling awful by now."_

"I was too embarrassed, okay?" Ron said angrily.  "I thought you'd make fun of me since a girl asked me and not the other way around."

"It's your brothers you'll want to worry about, not me," said Harry.  "They _will make fun of you.  If you'll excuse me, I've got to go ask Hermione to the Gala."_

A spasm crossed Ron's face, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.  Harry thought it looked a bit like regret, but it had been so brief that he couldn't be sure.

Harry did try, but he didn't get a chance to talk to Hermione alone that afternoon.  Watching her face was very unpleasant for him.  She did look very unhappy every time she saw a student couple giggling over the upcoming outing.  To make matters worse, Ron wasn't saying much to her.  Harry could have kicked him.  He didn't care how embarrassed Ron was; judging by her pained expression, Hermione very obviously thought she had done something wrong.

The dead silence between his friends in the library that night finally became too much for Harry.  He realized that an opportunity wasn't going to present itself anytime soon, so he might as well make one.  "Hermione, could we go talk in the hall for a minute?" he said.  "I don't want to distract Ron from his Potions essay."  He shot Ron a black glare.

Hermione looked up in surprise.  "Um, sure," she said, putting down her quill.

They headed through the library doors and stopped at the railing of a staircase.  "So what is it that you can't say in front of Ron?" said Hermione, leaning on the railing to look at the floors below.

"I was wondering if you'd like to come to the Gala with me," said Harry.

Hermione turned to look at him.  Every trace of sadness melted away in a beautiful smile.  "Really?"

"Yeah," said Harry.  "Why are you so surprised?  Ron and I would never leave you out."

"I figured that you were going to ask someone else," she said.

"I thought Ron was going to ask you first," said Harry.  "Turns out that Susan Bones asked _him."_

Hermione giggled.  "Did she?  I didn't even know that she liked him."

"A lot of girls seem to like him nowadays," said Harry.  Hermione's face fell a bit.  "What's the matter?"

Hermione turned a pleading gaze on him.  "Harry, this isn't going to be like a _real date, is it?"_

Harry suddenly felt very cold.  "Were you hoping it would be?" he said in a strangled voice.

"No, no… I don't want to go on a date.  But I do care about you, Harry," she said.  Harry's eyes widened in alarm.  "No!  I mean…  Oh, this isn't going well at all.  What I meant to say is, you're –"

"Like a brother?" said Harry.

"Yes," said Hermione, meeting his eyes.

Harry slumped against the railing in sheer relief.  "Don't scare me like that."

"Sorry," said Hermione.  "That just wasn't coming out right.  I thought I was offending you."

"I thought you made yourself pretty clear after your last dream," said Harry.

Hermione blushed.  "I know boys don't like it when girls go all mushy on them, but it's true.  You're one of the only friends I've ever had.  Most of the kids in primary school made fun of me for being brainy.  They called me Hamster Hermione because of my teeth…"  She trailed off with a pained look in her eyes.

"I guess that's something else we have in common then," said Harry.  "I got teased a lot too, mostly for my clothes.  They were Dudley's hand-me-downs and they were always too big.  Dudley and Piers beat up anyone who was ever nice to me."  Thinking about it was depressing; the memories were still thorny.  "You and Ron are the first real friends _I've_ ever had."  He paused.  "So you never answered my question."

"Oh!  I'd love to go with you," said Hermione, beaming at him.  "You'll be fun to dance with, at any rate.  Do you think we could do that Viennese waltz?"

"Definitely," said Harry.  "This instant learning stuff is coming in handy, isn't it?  I think we could even tango if you wanted to."

"I don't think the tango is a very platonic dance," said Hermione.  "People already want to know who the Boy Who Lived is going with.  They'd _really talk if they saw us doing that."_

"Eh, let them think whatever they want," said Harry.  "Going with the Boy Who Lived is a dubious honor anyway."

"No, it's not," Hermione said.  She stood up on tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

It was Harry's turn to go red.


	28. The Dirtiest Quidditch Match

**A/N: I'm getting better and better – it's been less than one day since my last update, so there's not much that's new to say.  I suppose I should do the old disclaimer thing again since I haven't done it in a while: Umbridge, the Sloth Grip Roll, and everything Potter – except the characters I made up – belong to J.K. Rowling.  Whew, glad I got that done.  Okay, I know I said that we'd get a little fluff in the "next chapter", but the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match ended up taking up a whole chapter's space, so we'll get to the fluff later.**

totallystellar: You make me laugh.  Look how well that truckload of inspiration dust worked!  I don't know if it was the sheer volume or the strawberry flavor.  You know, it's funny you should mention the Harry/Luna thing.  I've heard several people say that they think Harry is going to end up with her.  I didn't get that vibe from Phoenix, but who knows.  Unfortunately Luna isn't really in this story (I put her on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team), but she might show up more in the sixth year.

PhoenixTearsp322: I'm glad you're not upset about the ire thing!  Funny, but you're not the only person who thinks that Harry and Hermione have a budding romance in the works.  I hope your friend likes the story, too.

chuckleseviltroll312: Hmm, another person who doesn't believe this best friend thing between Harry and Hermione.  They _don't like each other like that right now.  If Harry were interested in Hermione, he wouldn't have found it so easy to ask her to the Gala.  They both freaked out a bit when they got to the subject of mutual interest.  At fifteen, you wonder if _everyone _likes you, even people you're not really interested in, so that was an awkward thing for them to surmount – naturally.  I don't want to rule out any possibilities and thus lock myself in, but Harry and Hermione aren't romantic at this point._

Jedi Buttercup: I'm so glad you liked that little exchange.  I loved the whole thing, myself.  It just flowed so smoothly; I didn't have to do much editing there at all.  Harry's turning out to be a mixed bag, isn't he?  He's picking up these little skills here and there, all because he's been on the receiving end of some pretty strong spells.  Harry will soon be making the mistake of thinking that dancing isn't masculine.  Women LOVE men that can dance.

Chapter 28: The Dirtiest Quidditch Match

It was a cold, clear day in the heart of February.  Harry Potter was sitting in Gryffindor's locker room beneath the Quidditch stadium, listening to the sound of hundreds of feet on the stairs above.  He brushed a bit of dust from his robes that had come down from the rafters.

"Stop thinking about the dratted Ministry Gala and pay attention!" snapped Angelina.  Fred and George's heads whipped around in surprise; their thoughts had clearly been elsewhere.

Harry sighed; he was having no trouble paying attention.  Angelina's voice had become increasingly louder as her pep talk went on, and it had taken on quite an edge when she suspected the twins of drifting off.  Harry had no idea how Fred and George could possibly ignore such a tone.  Next to him, Ron rolled his eyes and tugged his padded gauntlets on tighter.

Angelina put her hands on her hips.  "I don't know how you can let your minds wander at a time like this," she barked.  "This may turn out to be the most important match of the season!  We haven't lost to Slytherin in four years, and I'm not about to start now because our Beaters were thinking of snogging their girlfriends!"  Katie and Alicia laughed softly.  Angelina blushed a bit when she realized what she'd said; she was Fred's date to the Gala.

"Look.  If we lose, we've lost any chance of vying for the Cup," she said.  "Just play it like we practiced, and we should be fine.  I don't think anyone else has seen the Sloth Grip Roll yet."  A clarion sounded from the field.  "It's time."

They left the locker room and headed for Gryffindor's gate.  "Nervous, Ickle Ronniekins?" said George, falling into step beside his brother.

"A little," Ron admitted.  "This is a big game, after all.  And the Slytherins always play dirty."

"They'll try and knock you off your broom like the Ravenclaws did," said Fred.

"That was an accident," said Ron.

"Yeah, but they'll have thought it was a good idea.  Just keep your seat, and if the Slytherins give you any trouble, imagine them naked," said George.

"Ugh!" Harry and Ron chorused together.

"The fans too," said Fred.

"But not Snape," said George, winking at Ron.  "We don't want you going blind in the middle of the match."

The trumpet call sounded again; the team mounted their broomsticks, and the gate flew open.  Harry soared out into the stadium to the sound of Lee Jordan's echoing voice.  They did a lap around the stadium and flew into formation at the center where the Slytherins were already waiting.  Harry took his place several feet above his teammates, directly across from Draco Malfoy.  For an instant their gazes locked.  Absent was Draco's usual arrogant sneer; in its place was only cold determination.  Harry gripped his broomstick a little tighter.  This was not going to be an easy match.

Madam Hooch released the Snitch.  Harry tried to follow it, but it was quickly lost in the vast stadium.  Moments later she was tossing up the Quaffle, and the game erupted.

It was down and dirty right from the start.  All three of the Slytherin Chasers made to collide with the Gryffindor girls; only very quick thinking saved them.  Katie emerged from the scuffle with the scalloped ball and streaked for the Slytherin goal.

"Katie Bell scores – ten points to Gryffindor!" shouted Lee.  The crowd roared its approval.  Harry began to fly around the stadium, searching for the tiny Snitch.  On the opposite side, Draco was doing the same.

"McGavick takes the Quaffle, he's heading for the Gryffindor goalposts, STOP HIM, RON –"

"Yes, stop him, Weasley!" cried Professor McGonagall.

"Minerva!" barked Snape.

"Excellent save by the Gryffindor Keeper!" called Lee.

Harry whooped with the rest of the fans but never took his eyes off the field.

"INCREDIBLE MOVE BY JOHNSON!" roared Lee, and Harry knew that Angelina had unveiled the Sloth Grip Roll.  "She avoids the Bludger by rolling and passes to Spinnet at the same time!  What genius!  And Spinnet SCORES!  It's Gryffindor twenty, Slytherin zero!"

At this moment, one of the Slytherin Beaters flew right in front of Harry's nose.  Harry heard him – Crabbe, he thought – grunt viciously as he swung his club.  There was a loud CRACK and the Bludger rocketed right for the Gryffindor Chasers, who were back in possession of the Quaffle yet again.

"KATIE, LOOK OUT!" shouted Harry.  Katie rolled just as the Bludger blasted through the space where her head had been.

After that, the game quickly degenerated.  Slytherin was trying everything possible to take out the Gryffindor team.  The Gryffindors avoided most of the attacks with ease, but they were so numerous that the odds were against them.  As the game progressed the Slytherins managed to score a few hits.  A Bludger grazed Alicia's leg, tearing off her shin guard.  Two Slytherin Chasers deliberately collided with Ron, knocking him out.  Madam Hooch awarded Gryffindor three penalty shots, but it took Ron a full ten minutes to come around.  Harry, Fred, and George did their best to cover the hoops while he was out, but they were no Keepers; Slytherin still managed to put several in.

Once Ron was back, the game was back in Gryffindor's favor.  Overall the Gryffindor team had the superior flyers, and it was starting to show.  Katie, Alicia, and Angelina lengthened the lead to a full hundred points before Slytherin pulled its dirty fight back together.  Just as Angelina tossed the Quaffle through a Slytherin hoop for the umpteenth time, Crabbe and Goyle fired both Bludgers at her.  There was a sickening crack and Angelina was knocked clean off her broom.  She didn't fall far before George caught her.  Harry knew that his work as Seeker was more important than seeing to her, so he stayed where he was, but he could clearly hear her moans of pain.  Lee's mutters about a possible dislocated shoulder didn't help much.

Alicia was the next to go.  She was in the middle of a mad dash for the Quaffle that included all three Slytherin Chasers, so no one clearly saw what happened.  A split second later she was fluttering down to the pitch, cradling a broken right arm.

"Find that Snitch, Harry, or before long you'll be the only one left!" called Lee over the loudspeaker.

"Yes, end this game, Potter!" shouted McGonagall.

"Again I make my case that the announcement of this game is grossly prejudiced!"  Snape's voice was magnified for the whole field to hear.

"It's your team that's resorting to martial law!" shouted McGonagall.

"There are almost no rules in Quidditch!"

"MALFOY DIVES FOR THE SNITCH!" shouted Lee, cutting off the broadcasted argument.

Harry had seen it too; a millisecond after Draco began to move, he was streaking toward the golden glimmer.  Too late he saw Crabbe and Goyle flanking him.  They zoomed in from both sides, intending to drive him into the wall of the stands.  Thinking as fast as he could, Harry dropped straight down.  Crabbe and Goyle collided with each other and plummeted in a tangle of broomsticks.  Harry had avoided a wreck from three sides, but it was too late to keep from smashing into the wall.  He barely managed to keep hold of his broom.

Something was broken in his left arm; he just knew it.  Better his arm than his leg, though; at least he could still sit on his broomstick, and he could catch the Snitch one-handed.  He'd done it before.

"Harry!" said Fred, soaring up to him.  "Are you all right?"

"No," Harry said through gritted teeth, holding his left arm close to his body.

"You sound bad," said Fred.  "Maybe you should –"

"No!"  The vehemence in Harry's voice even startled him.  "The only way I leave this field early is unconscious."

Fred nodded.  "I'm on Chaser with Katie.  Find that Snitch if you possibly can!  We're still up by eighty, so if Malfoy gets it now, we'll lose!"

Harry nodded grimly and resumed his search for the Snitch.  Since the game was still going on, Draco must have lost sight of it in the triple collision.  Harry soared around the stadium, taking stock of their situation.  Gryffindor and Slytherin were both down by two players; neither Crabbe nor Goyle had returned to the field, and one of the Slytherin Chasers had taken up a Beater.  Slytherin had the advantage, though; Harry was injured and Draco was not.

The game seemed to crawl forward.  Katie and Fred were managing to increase the score ten points at a time, and Slytherin fell behind, but it happened very slowly.  Ninety... one hundred... one hundred ten points ahead...  Harry's arm ached terribly and his head was swimming.  When he flew past the staff box, he caught sight of Professor Thornby.  She looked just about ready to leap into the air and bring him down herself.  Harry ignored her worried eyes and flew on.

One hundred twenty... thirty... forty!  The crowd roared in anticipation as the score crept upward.  Harry and Draco tore around the stadium as fast as they could, still searching for the Snitch.

They saw it at the same time, languishing in the middle of the field.  Harry barely heard Lee announce Gryffindor's one hundred and fifty point lead as he rushed toward it, every sense focused on the ball that would end the game.  He and Draco hurtled toward it on a collision course while the students in the stands cheered madly.

The Snitch changed course sharply.  Harry and Draco veered at the same moment and found themselves tearing side by side toward the fluttering ball.  Neither looked at the other; both stretched out their arms and reached.

Harry was unprepared for Draco's sudden movement.  He couldn't stop the cry that burst from his lips when his opponent veered sideways, slamming into his injured arm.  Harry saw spots; the world spun crazily.  He dimly heard Draco's cry of triumph as he closed his hand on the Snitch.  The air was full of the sound of students going wild, but all Harry could focus on was the searing pain in his arm.  Somehow he managed to land and found himself surrounded by Fred, George, Katie, and Ron.

"I'm sorry," Harry said thickly.  "Malfoy ran into me... I couldn't..."

"Harry, we won!" cried Ron.

"We... what?"

"Katie scored at the last second!" George crowed.  "Their Keeper wasn't paying attention!"  Harry looked at Katie; she was being thumped on the back by all three Weasleys and was grinning from ear to ear.  Finally Harry noticed what the Gryffindor fans were cheering.

"KA-TIE!  KA-TIE!  KA-TIE!"

They had won by ten points.  Before long Katie found herself being hoisted on the shoulders of the Gryffindors who were storming the field.  Harry quickly backed out of the way to avoid being jostled.  It didn't take long for Hermione to find him.

"Oh, Harry!  Are you all right?" she said breathlessly, stretching out a hand.

"Don't – touch," Harry gasped.

"Sorry," she said softly.  "You'd better get Madam Pomfrey to look at that."

"Oh, she's not going to be happy," moaned Harry.  "Can't we just nick the Skele-Gro from her medicine cabinet?  I don't want to spend the night in the hospital wing."

"Don't be silly," said Hermione.  "Chin up, Harry.  At least you'll have lots of company."  Harry groaned, and she laughed.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed off for the school, leaving Katie and the twins behind with the celebrating crowd.  They were still ten feet from the doors to the hospital wing when Madam Pomfrey's voice rang out.  "Barbaric sport!" she yelled.  "If Dumbledore doesn't ban it after this, he may just have to find a new matron!"

Harry turned around.  "Oh, no, I'm not going in there!"

Ron and Hermione each seized him by a shoulder.  "Oh, yes you are," said Hermione.

Harry tried to dig in his heels but his friends spun him around and pushed him forward.  "Somehow this is going to be all my fault," said Harry, glancing at his broken arm.  "Just wait and see."

They entered the vast room.  Four of the snow-white beds were already taken.  Crabbe and Goyle were still unconscious, Alicia was drinking a glass of Skele-Gro, and Angelina was white as a sheet, holding her injured arm close.

"Not you too, Potter!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione all jumped.  "I am tired of seeing you here!  I vow, I may just leave you on the field after the next match!"

"Don't blame me!" Harry said angrily.  "Instead of banning Quidditch, why don't you just forbid the Slytherins from playing?"

"What happened to you, Harry?" said Alicia.

"Let's just say that those two got what they deserved," Ron answered, pointing at Crabbe and Goyle.

"You look like you're doing better," she said.

Madam Pomfrey looked up sharply.  "What do you mean?  What happened to you?" she said, advancing on Ron.

"N-nothing," said Ron, backing away.  "I think I'll just head back to the common room –"

He wasn't fast enough.  Madam Pomfrey seized him and began examining him.  She gently touched a large red patch on Ron's left temple, and he hissed and flinched away.

"Bludger to the head," she muttered.  "You're lucky it didn't crack your skull!"

"He was out for ten minutes," said Alicia.

"Don't TELL her that!" Ron shouted.

"If we're going to be stuck here overnight, then so are you," she replied.

"Get in bed, Weasley," said Madam Pomfrey.  Ron glowered at her, but he sat down and began pulling off his protective padding.  "Miss Granger," she continued, her tone softening a bit, "would you run and fetch Professor Bellaton, please?  I am going to need his assistance."

Hermione left and returned a short time later with Bellaton in tow.  By this time, both Harry and Ron were sitting morosely in their hospital beds.  Harry was gagging from the awful taste of Skele-Gro, and Madam Pomfrey was pouring Angelina a glass of bright green liquid.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," she said.  "This way, Ardoc."  She led him to Angelina's bedside.  Poor Angelina was holding her arm tightly, trying not to cry, but now and then a tear would escape her tightly closed eyes.

"Dislocated shoulder?" Bellaton said gently.  Madam Pomfrey nodded.  "And you want me to…?"  She nodded again.  "Right," said Bellaton.

Madam Pomfrey got Angelina to drink the green potion, and she immediately began to relax.  They stood her on her feet with Bellaton behind her.  Madam Pomfrey stood on a chair and tied a sling beneath Angelina's injured shoulder.  Bellaton took her arm with his free hand.  When Madam Pomfrey counted to three, she pulled up and Bellaton pulled down.  Angelina whimpered slightly, and they let go of her.  "Done," said the matron, and she gently helped Angelina to sit once again.

"Good heavens!" said a voice from the doorway.  Madam Hooch and Professor McGonagall stood there, just in time to see the remedy.  Katie and the twins were behind them.  "Is Miss Johnson going to be all right?" said Professor McGonagall.

"Yes," said Madam Pomfrey.  "I had to give her something rather strong to ease the reduction.  She would have screamed bloody murder otherwise.  It should keep her out for an hour or so."  Behind her, Harry could see Bellaton helping a very sleepy Angelina to lie down.

"Disgusting tactics!" Madam Hooch said briskly.  "Gryffindor shall have won by more than ten points by the time I'm through.  I've half a mind to disband the Slytherin team entirely!"

"Disband the team?" said a cold voice.  Snape had joined the fray.  "I hardly think _that will be necessary.  Rest assured that I will speak to the team about proper sportsmanship."_

"Sportsmanship?" shrieked Professor McGonagall.  "Your players do everything short of killing off the Gryffindor team, and you talk of _sportsmanship?_  You have gone round the bend, Severus!"

"Quidditch is a violent game!" said Snape.  "The team was merely aggressive, though perhaps too much so."

"You can think whatever you like, but _I_ supervise sport around here," said Madam Hooch.  "That was the filthiest game I have ever seen, Severus, and I have refereed for the Berkshire Bashers!  I'm giving your team one last chance to play it straight.  Any shenanigans in the Ravenclaw match and Slytherin will not be competing for the Quidditch Cup next year."

Snape's eyes glittered.  "I understand you perfectly," he said, and stalked out.

Professor McGonagall swept into the room, followed closely by Fred, George, and Katie.  "Well played, all of you," she said briskly, taking them all in.  Angelina was the only one who didn't hear; she was sound asleep in her bed.  "I can barely think how you managed to pull off a victory in the face of such conduct, but you did it."  She turned to the bedridden team members.  "Potter, Weasley, Spinnet.  Are you all well?"

"Well enough not to be stuck in here," Ron pouted.  "You saw me flying around out there, can't you do something?"

"Far be it from me to question Madam Pomfrey's judgment," said Professor McGonagall.  A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth when Ron sighed.  "You will stay until she releases you.  Now I suppose I should leave you all to celebrate.  Excellent work, Miss Bell," she said as she left.

"Thank you, Professor," said Katie, grinning broadly.

"Do you think you'll be better soon?" Hermione said to Harry and Ron.  "There's a notice posted on the front doors – surprise Hogsmeade trip tomorrow."

"What rotten luck!" Ron grumped.  "With Madam Pomfrey, who knows?"

"Why is there a Hogsmeade trip?" said Harry.

"Shopping," said Fred.  "All of a sudden there are a lot of students who need new dress robes.  Including us."

"Are you selling your jokes or what?" said Ron.  "You have to be.  There's no other way you could have the money."

"We'll not be revealing our secrets to you just yet, Ickle Ronniekins," said George.  "We'll have our own joke shop yet."  He winked at Harry.

Ron shook his head.  "Mum won't like it."

"So?" said Fred.  "What Mum doesn't know won't hurt her."

"One day she'll see the value of having pranksters in the family," said George.

"I don't see the value myself," sniggered Ron.

"Watch it, little brother, or we'll take back those lovely navy blue robes we bought you," said Fred.

"Just try it," said Ron.  "I'd rather die than go to another ball in that lacy maroon thing."

"Then don't go prying where you've got no business," said George.

"Fine," said Ron.  "Keep your stupid secrets."

"Well, we're off to the party," said Fred.  "Don't worry, we'll bring you down some sweets ASAP."

"Bring me a butterbeer, won't you?" said Alicia.

"Yeah, me too," said Ron.

"What makes you think we'll have butterbeer?" said George.  "To get that, we'd have to sneak into Hogsmeade."

"You'll find a way," snorted Alicia.  "You always do.  Get me that butterbeer, George, or you'll be looking for another date to the Gala."

"Yes, ma'am," said George, grinning and bowing.

The twins were as good as their word.  Within two hours they were back, bearing sweets of every kind and bottles of butterbeer that they hid beneath the beds so Madam Pomfrey wouldn't see.  They also brought the remnants of a cake.  Harry got a piece that had the letters "Wi" on it in messy red icing.

"It used to say "Wish You Were Here," said Fred, "but we weren't able to get it out of the tower before the students ate some of it."

Eventually Katie came back down, Angelina woke up, and the whole Gryffindor team had a little party right there in the hospital wing.  At first Madam Pomfrey objected, but their good mood was infectious, and they weren't disturbing Crabbe and Goyle.  Eventually George took a leap of faith and offered the matron a butterbeer.  To Harry's very great surprise, she accepted with pleasure and left them alone for the rest of the night.

"If we can win the dirtiest Quidditch match ever, we can beat Hufflepuff," said Alicia as she unwrapped a bar of Honeydukes chocolate.

"I'll bet everyone wishes Katie were on their team now," said Ron.

"Yeah, and if the Slytherin Keeper is still alive tomorrow, I'll be really surprised," she replied.

"Great match today, everyone," said Angelina.  "To us!"  She raised her butterbeer, and they all clinked bottles.

"If a dislocated shoulder is what it takes to get you to relax, we'll make sure you get one in the next match," said Fred.

Angelina sent a pillow flying at his head, and everybody laughed.


	29. The Ministry Gala

**A/N: **Okay, here we have a little bit of Remus/Celeste fluff, a big, fancy party, and an evil cliffhanger. This chapter wanders around a bit, I'll admit, but I was having a lot of fun writing it, and most people don't really seem to mind. More isn't always better, but I hope you all have fun reading. Oh, and about the cliffhanger… Don't despair. I'll update again very soon. I have a strong desire to put an author's note containing an evil laugh at the end of the chapter, but I'm resisting.

Jedi Buttercup: I think Snape is totally biased on the subject of Slytherin. Sometimes he has Machiavellian tendencies – "the ends justify the means" sort of thing.

chuckleseviltroll312: Thanks for the great compliments! As for action… we've got some tense scenes coming up in the next chapter. (Yes, _really_ the next chapter this time.)

Danae: Here's a bit of fluff. It's not overpowering – Remus and Celeste are not what Harry's focus is on - but we'll get some more in the next chapter.

Chapter 29: The Ministry Gala

Harry's night in the hospital wing was quiet and peaceful, but the rising sun brought new trials and tribulations. Crabbe and Goyle finally came to at dawn, and they were instantly at their archrivals' throats. They crowed over the fact that Malfoy had finally caught the Snitch but became downright vicious when they learned that Slytherin had lost the match – by ten points, no less. At first it had looked like Madam Pomfrey was going to try and detain them further, but all six patients were soon fighting like wet cats in a barrel. In the end the matron couldn't get rid of them fast enough.

"OUT, all of you!" she shouted, fairly pushing them out the door. "And tell your Houses that I'm turning away anyone who isn't half-dead!"

The Gryffindors glared at the Slytherins one last time before they parted ways. "I'll say one thing for Crabbe and Goyle," Alicia grumbled. "If it weren't for them, we'd still be sitting in bed."

They rounded the corner and found themselves in the entrance hall. It was full of students in their cloaks and striped scarves, waiting to leave for Hogsmeade.

"Harry! Ron!" called Hermione, waving at them from across the hall. "Hurry up and get your stuff, you'll miss it!"

Harry, Ron, Angelina, and Alicia took off for Gryffindor Tower at a dead run. Angelina and Alicia muttered the whole way about how they couldn't afford to be late, as they both needed to buy new gowns. They skidded to a halt in front of the Fat Lady.

"Password?" the Fat Lady said regally.

"Slytherin Stinks," said Ron. "And be quick about it, we're late!"

"Sorry," said the Fat Lady. "That is not the password. Punctuality is a virtue, you know – perhaps you should have left earlier."

"Aaugh!" said Angelina. "They changed it without telling us?"

"Someone go get a Gryffindor!" cried Alicia.

"Malfoy Is A Slimy Git," said Hermione's voice behind them.

"_That's the one," said the Fat Lady, and the portrait swung open. Angelina and Alicia hurtled inside._

"The others have gone, but Professor Thornby stayed behind to wait for us," said Hermione, impatiently shifting her weight from foot to foot. "Oh, will you _please hurry? Gladrags is going to be so busy, I'm never going to be able to find a dress!"_

Harry and Ron obliged, and soon they were all hurrying back down to the Great Hall, flogged along by Angelina and Alicia's complaints. Professor Thornby was there waiting just as Hermione had said, wrapped in a traveling cloak. They set off from the castle as quickly as they could go. Angelina and Alicia would have run the whole way, but Professor Thornby wouldn't allow it. "We're not far behind," she said. "You can take off when we're in sight of the village."

"Great password, by the way, but couldn't someone have told us?" said Alicia.

"It's in Harry's honor, really," said Hermione. "Not that everyone didn't despise what happened to all of you, but Malfoy was just so _nasty_. Oh, and Madam Hooch awarded Gryffindor an extra hundred points."

Angelina laughed aloud. "The Slytherins will be walking small once Snape gets through with them!"

They finally rounded a bend in the path and saw the first building in the distance. Angelina and Alicia gave Professor Thornby imploring looks. "Go on, then," she said, and the two seventh years took off running.

Hermione looked as if dignity alone was keeping her from following. "I'll never get into Gladrags now," she sighed.

"Well, I may have a solution for you," said Professor Thornby. "Buy a bolt of the fabric you like, and the house-elves and I can make your dress at Alverbrooke."

"Oh, _really?" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes shining._

"Really," said Professor Thornby. "I'm going to pick out fabric for my dress, too. Making two outfits won't be any problem. Magic makes so many things faster. You don't need to worry about dress robes either, Harry. I've taken the liberty of ordering something for you ahead of time. You've been specially invited as one of the greatest wizards of modern times, so you need something new."

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione arrived in the village, they soon saw that Hermione had been right – Gladrags was a nightmare. There were students lined up outside waiting to enter, but Hermione wasn't interested in trying things on and was able to walk right inside. A short time later she came out with a large brown package. Though Harry and Ron pressed her, she refused to say what color she'd bought. With their only errand finished, the three of them were able to spend the rest of the afternoon at the Three Broomsticks, drinking butterbeer and rehashing the Quidditch match.

That evening the first of many special sessions of the Dueling Club was held. When it became known that the professors were giving dancing lessons, every student who was attending the Gala showed up. Harry found himself going over the basics again, but as the days passed, they learned more steps and different dances. Harry had only to see a step done once before he could do it himself. At first he worried that dancing was going to make him look... well, _girlish_... but he soon realized that there were several other boys who already knew what they were doing. He looked around at the other students when he was practicing with Hermione; some of the boys looked purely envious, and several of the girls did, too. Harry quickly saw that Bellaton had been right; Hermione followed his directions with ease although she was a novice. It wasn't long before students were stopping Harry and the other more accomplished dancers between classes, asking for pointers.

The week of the Gala began, and Dumbledore announced that they would all have that Thursday and Friday off. Since most of the staff was going to the event, the students would be taking the Hogwarts Express back to Kings Cross for the weekend. This managed to lift even the spirits of the students who were not attending the party.

No one got much done that week. Students and professors alike clearly had their minds on other things. Even Hermione was completely distracted by the upcoming ball; one day she completely fudged her Sleeping Draught in Potions and nearly lost a finger to a Snapdragon in Herbology. Normally this would have been a shocking event, but since there were so many other students in the same position, it caused hardly a ripple.

Thursday finally arrived and everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The teachers were sick of their listless students and the students were tired of their tightly wound teachers. The atmosphere on the train back to Kings Cross was festive. Students were up and down the corridors between the cars, giddy in their excitement. Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent most of their time in their own compartment, though, as Ron had asked Harry for some help with dancing. Hermione performed a clever little Reduction Charm and the seats shrank up against the wall, leaving a good deal more room for practice. Ron wasn't half bad at leading, but Hermione was used to Harry's superior ability, and she wasn't picking up on Ron's more subtle signals. Unfortunately Ron did not take direction well, and Harry was still figuring out exactly how he did what he did, so all three of them were very grumpy by the time the train pulled into the station.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione disembarked to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley waiting for them. "Oh, there you are, dears!" cried Mrs. Weasley, pulling them all into one embrace. "Welcome home, welcome home! Fred, George, I _do_ hope you've something suitable to wear –"

"Taste is subjective, mum."

"- and Ginny, dear, I'm not sure what you've got. Do you need to go shopping?"

"No, mum, Fred and George bought me a gown!"

"Did they?" said Mrs. Weasley, turning a suspicious eye on the twins. "And where, pray tell, did they get the money?"

"We've been saving up our allowance," Fred said glibly. "It's an early birthday present."

"Ginny's birthday is in _May_," said Mrs. Weasley.

"We've already got our own dress robes, mum, and I think you'll find them quite suitable," said George.

"And where did you get _them_?" Mrs. Weasley continued.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Molly," Mr. Weasley said congenially. "Let's get outside – the Grangers are waiting, and I believe your uncle is too, Harry."

True enough, the Grangers were there, and they swept Hermione up into a hug as soon as she appeared. Professor Thornby was standing a good distance away, disguised as Vernon Dursley. "See you at the Gala!" Harry said as she beckoned to him. He knew that it must have seemed a bit rude, but Fred and George were eyeing Professor Thornby critically, and Harry wasn't sure he could evade their questions much longer.

Just as they had last time, Harry and his guardian took a Portkey back to Alverbrooke, but this time they appeared right in the breakfast room.

"Harry!" said Sirius, jumping up from one of the wicker chairs. He wrapped his godson up in a quick bear hug. "You look taller."

Harry laughed. "I don't know, am I?"

"You _are_ taller – your robes are a bit short," said Sirius.

"Welcome back, Harry!" said Lupin, walking into the room.

"Hello, Remus," Harry grinned. "Are you coming to the Gala?"

"I'm his date," said Lupin, pointing at the Dursleyfied Professor Thornby.

"What, no kiss?" said Professor Thornby, making puppy dog eyes. Harry burst out laughing; the expression looked ridiculous on his uncle's face.

"Maybe later," said Lupin with a smile.

"I'm going too, you know," said Sirius.

Harry's jaw dropped. "How?"

"On Saturday I shall be Lysander Bucklethwaite, one of Dumbledore's old friends," said Sirius. "He didn't want to go anyway, so Dumbledore made the arrangements. Aaah, I've been stuck in this house ever since the manhunt resumed. It's not a bad place to be stuck, mind you, and they've been keeping me busy, but still. I can't wait to get out of here."

"So this guy knows about you?" said Harry.

Sirius and Lupin exchanged glances. "Yes," said Sirius.

"How does he know?"

"Sorry, can't tell you that."

Harry frowned. "Why not?"

"Look, Harry," said Lupin. "I think Dumbledore is planning on letting you in on some things pretty soon, but he hasn't given us the go-ahead. Things are pretty dicey just now, so take our word for it. We'd tell you if we could."

Harry sighed. "All right."

Professor Thornby suddenly shrieked. The three men looked up to see her back to her old self, wrapped tightly in her traveling cloak from the neck down. Her head and feet were just about the only things visible, and a pair of enormous trousers lay in a puddle around her ankles. "For heaven's sake, turn your backs! What kind of gentlemen are you?" she gasped. "That's the second time this has happened..." Harry and Sirius turned around, sniggering, but Lupin's face looked like the sunset. Professor Thornby left the room, muttering something about Bellaton having to do it next time.

**********

On Saturday evening, Harry found himself sitting on a sofa in the foyer, waiting for Hermione to come down. Bellaton had gone to fetch her from her parents' house in the early afternoon. She had barely said hello to Harry before vanishing upstairs with Professor Thornby. Harry didn't understand how it could take her hours to get ready; it had taken him less than one. He had bathed, dressed, and fixed his hair. What else did a girl have to do? _Well, Hermione does have a lot more hair than I do, he thought._

Harry glanced at himself in a mirror that hung above an end table. His hair was lying neatly against his head instead of sticking up ever which way. Professor Thornby had given him a bottle of some unknown substance and told him to shampoo with it; whatever it was, it had done the trick. He was dressed in the Muggle tuxedo that his guardian had acquired for him. "They're a bit of a fashion craze in the magical world right now," Professor Thornby had said. "I think we'll see quite a lot of them tonight."

"Not bad, old chap," said Sirius, walking in. "You clean up very nicely."

"Lysander Bucklethwaite looks an awful lot like Sirius Black," said Harry.

Sirius held up a glass of bluish sludge. "Not for long," he said, grinning roguishly. He held up a leather flask in his other hand. "I've got enough to last the night in here."

Lupin and Bellaton wandered into the foyer behind Sirius. Bellaton was grimacing and massaging his throat while Lupin nervously tapped a corsage of white flowers and green leaves against his palm. Harry looked down at his own offering; it was a little spray of purplish flowers.

"Settle down, Moony," said Sirius. "You look smashing. I'm sure she'll be duly impressed."

"You would think that someone my age wouldn't be quite so anxious," said Lupin.

There was a creak on the stairs above, and the four of them looked up. Hermione was coming down the stairs, a shy smile on her face. Harry's mouth fell open slightly. He had never really thought about it before, but Hermione was growing up to be quite beautiful. She was all in soft blue, and she'd done something new to her hair. Instead of being frizzy, it was soft and wavy. She had done it up behind her head, and there were little blue flowers stuck in everywhere.

"Wow," said Harry when she reached the bottom of the staircase. "You look… you look great."

"Quite charming, Miss Granger," Bellaton said hoarsely.

"Thank you," said Hermione, blushing prettily. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Sore throat," said Bellaton, clearing it a few times. "It will pass."

"Um, here," said Harry. He held out the corsage.

"You're supposed to pin it on her," said Sirius.

"Oh. Right." Harry fumbled around with the flowers, trying to pin them to Hermione's dress somehow. For some reason he felt quite unwilling to let his fingers touch her skin, even though it was just beneath her shoulder blade. It was very hard to get the straight pin through the fabric of her dress without doing so.

"Ouch!" said Hermione, flinching away.

Harry turned red. He'd stuck her with the pin. "Er, sorry," he said. "Maybe if I –"

Hermione laughed, and some of Harry's tension melted away. "Here, let me." She deftly pinned the corsage to her dress. "There. Now it's your turn."

"What?"

Hermione held out a red rosebud. "Your boutonniere, silly," she said, taking hold of his lapel.

"Are we all ready to go?" said Professor Thornby from the top of the stairs.

If Hermione was a budding beauty, Harry's guardian was in full bloom. She looked very elegant indeed in royal blue with her hair up.

"Close your mouth, Moony," Sirius whispered. Lupin closed it, but his eyes continued to drink her in.

Professor Thornby reached the bottom of the staircase and took Lupin's hand. "Remus. You look very handsome."

"So do you," said Lupin, and everyone laughed. Lupin smiled and flushed a bit. "I mean – you look lovely." His eyes widened when they fell on her jewelry. "You wore them!"

"I bought the fabric to match," she said.

"Moony," said Sirius, peering at the necklace and earrings, "those look an awful lot like –"

"They are," said Lupin, drawing himself up as if he expected an attack.

"I wish I had fancy jewels to give away to women," said Sirius. "If I did, I might not be a wanted man." Lupin relaxed visibly.

Bellaton pulled a pocketwatch from his coat. "It's getting late," he said. "We'd better go."

Sirius drank his potion while Lupin and Professor Thornby exchanged their own bunches of flowers. In moments he had transformed into an older man with a short gray beard and sharp blue eyes. Sirius winked at Harry. "No one will be the wiser. Let's get out of here!"

Lupin offered Professor Thornby his arm, and she took it. Harry and Hermione grinned at each other when Harry did the same.

"You two are going by Portkey," said Bellaton, clearing his throat again. He handed Harry a small box. Harry opened it to see a large brass key inside.

"Port-key," said Harry, grinning.

"It's a bit literal, yes. The Ministry does things very formally for this event," said Bellaton. "The rest of us will Apparate. I'll go first, then you two come, and the others will follow. Remember, we're not together after this."

"Right," said Harry, and Bellaton disappeared with a little pop.

"Have fun," said Professor Thornby. She and Lupin were smiling at them, their fingers already laced together.

"We will," Harry and Hermione chorused, and they touched the brass key together.

Harry felt a familiar jerk behind his navel and the world began to rush forward. His finger felt cemented to the key; it was the only thing between safety and spinning off into oblivion.

Moments later the rushing stopped. Harry opened his eyes and blinked around at what he saw. Next to him, Hermione gasped aloud.

They were standing in a huge, lavishly decorated room with people appearing all around them. Light was provided by three enormous crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. The floor beneath their feet was marble. There was a large staircase on either side of the room with an elaborately carved wooden banister; it led up to a balcony above where dozens of glittering people were standing in a line. Behind them were several heavy wooden doors that had been thrown wide open; through them they could see into the adjoining room. There were hundreds of people swarming about the floor, dressed in every color of the rainbow. The air was full of voices, but they could hear the faint sounds of stringed instruments wafting over it all.

"Oh my," breathed Hermione.

"You said it," said Harry.

"'Arry!"

Harry turned to see who had called and blinked when he saw Fleur Delacour walking up. Bill Weasley, complete with ponytail and dragon fang, was on her arm. His brother Charlie was walking alongside them with a girl Harry didn't recognize.

"'Arry, it eez so nice to see you!" said Fleur, taking his hand.

Harry felt his mouth go dry. "Hello, Fleur," he managed. "I didn't know you were still around."

"I 'ave a job at Gringotts," she said. "My Eenglish eez much improved, no?"

"You sound great," said Harry.

Bill and Charlie gave Harry and Hermione friendly hellos, but none of them stuck around long as they were eager to get to the ball. As they left, Fleur called to Harry, "Perhaps we can dance togezzer tonight, 'Arry!" Hermione just shook her head.

No sooner had they gone than Harry and Hermione heard a lone voice rise above the crowd. "Mr. and Mrs. Charles Chatham." There was a brief pause, and then it spoke again. "Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Weasley."

"Oooh, they're being announced!" said Hermione, clapping her hands.

"Announced?"

"Yes! See all those people queued up on the balcony? You're announced when you go in for the first time."

"I guess you'd like to do that," said Harry.

Hermione's face fell a bit. "I can understand why you wouldn't," she said. "You don't like publicity much, do you?"

"Come on, let's go," said Harry, pulling her toward the staircase. "I don't mind." Hermione gave him a radiant smile. Harry felt his heart beat a little faster in spite of himself. No matter what they'd said to each other before, she was still very pretty.

"I believe you are blushing, Mr. Potter," said Hermione with a mischievous grin.

"Stop _trying to make me turn red, will you?" Harry said, and she giggled with delight._

They reached the front of the line and gave their names to a woman with a clipboard and quill. The woman passed a slip of parchment to a dignified man who stood just inside the doorway. Harry took Hermione's arm again.

"Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Hermione Granger."

They stepped through the door together into a world of light, color, and music. The Grand Ballroom was gigantic. At the moment, the floor was full of tables covered by long white tablecloths. Witches and wizards were seating themselves and sipping from their wine glasses. Harry and Hermione walked down the staircase onto the floor below and saw that each seat was marked with a placecard.

Harry was just wondering how they would ever find their names when Dumbledore came walking up, dressed in magnificent purple and gold. "Good evening Mr. Potter, Miss Granger," he said, his eyes twinkling at them. "You are both looking very fine tonight."

"Thank you, sir," they said.

"By a lucky coincidence, we have been seated next to each other," said Dumbledore. "And since I already know where I am sitting, I thought I might save you the trouble of finding it yourselves."

Harry and Hermione followed the headmaster to a table near the center of the room. Harry's heart climbed into his throat when he saw the kinds of people he would be sitting next to. Most of them were older, several with grave faces. Harry realized that these were some of the others that had been specially invited by the Minister of Magic.

Dumbledore stopped, and Harry looked down at the card in front of him. It read "Mr. Harry Potter" in gold script. At the next place, the card bore Hermione's name. On Dumbledore's other side was Professor McGonagall, and she gave the two students a welcoming smile.

Harry and Hermione took their seats. Hermione was gazing around at the venerable assembly with wide brown eyes. "Are you quite terrified yet?" she whispered.

"Very," Harry whispered back. "Thank goodness we've got Dumbledore and McGonagall, at least!"

Harry's tongue seemed to be cleaved to the roof of his mouth, but Dumbledore stepped in to save the day. "Harry, Hermione, I would like to introduce you to my good friend Madam Bones," he said, and a severe-looking witch across the table smiled slightly and nodded.

"Nice to meet you," said Harry, hoping it was the right thing to say.

"A pleasure," said Madam Bones.

More introductions followed, and Harry began to feel more at ease as all the intimidating faces smiled at him one by one. Some seemed very keen to get to meet him, and for once in his life, Harry didn't mind. Hermione relaxed when more than one person said that they had heard of what a good student she was. When she discovered that the wizard across from her had written _Hogwarts, A History_, Hermione was nearly beside herself with joy.

Not everyone looked happy to see Harry, though. Draco Malfoy was sitting at a nearby table with Blaise Zabini and his parents; all three Malfoys gave Harry and Hermione one dismissive glance and turned up their noses. They weren't far from Fudge himself, who looked at Harry in a considering manner that made him uneasy. Umbridge was at the table as well. She was dressed in a foul pink concoction and simpered whenever Fudge spoke. When she caught Harry's eye, her sickly smile became calculating. Harry didn't hold her gaze for long.

Percy Weasley was also seated at the Minister's table. Next to him was Penelope Clearwater, his girlfriend from Hogwarts. Whenever he looked in Harry's direction Harry tried to catch his eye. Percy never took the hint, and Harry had to wonder how bad things had gotten between him and the rest of the Weasleys that he should be ignoring Ron's friends.

When supper was over everyone stood up and the tables vanished. The chairs flew to the sides of the ballroom to line the walls. The orchestra struck up a tune, and people began pairing off.

"Would you care to dance?" said Harry, bowing to Hermione.

"I'd love to!" she said, taking his hand.

Harry led her out into the middle of the floor. He put one arm around her waist and took her right hand in his left, and they were off. Hermione's cheeks flushed with pleasure as they traveled over the floor, moving with the crowd. They passed several people they knew – Fred and Angelina, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Dumbledore who was dancing with Professor McGonagall.

Harry and Hermione didn't find Ron until the song ended. He was near the edge of the crowd with Susan, who looked like she was having a very good time. Ron turned bright red every time Susan smiled at him.

"Ron!" said Harry, waving at them.

"Nice monkey suit," said Ron, taking in Harry's black and white. Then his eyes fell on Hermione. He gaped like a fish for a few seconds before he managed to say anything at all. "_Wow_, Hermione," he finally said. Hermione blushed yet again.

Susan's eyes narrowed. Harry stepped in to try and defuse the situation. "Hello, Susan," he said. "Having fun?"

"I was," she said flatly. Ron gulped, but he was saved when Susan's attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere. "Look!" she said. "Isn't that Professor Lupin with Professor Thornby?"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked where she was pointing. There they were, dancing around with the rest of the crowd, staring into each others' eyes. They barely seemed to notice the other people.

"Oh, how romantic," Susan sighed. She turned starry eyes on Ron, and he gulped again. "They look so into each other. I wonder how they met?"

"Don't know," Harry lied.

At that moment the song ended and the orchestra began a new one. "Oh, a Viennese waltz!" said Hermione. She clasped her hands together in excitement and gave Harry a hopeful look.

"Subtle, Hermione," he said. "I suppose you'd like to dance again?"

"Let's go," she said, seizing his hand and dragging him after her.

Hermione proved to be insatiable on the dance floor. She and Harry danced four in a row before she allowed him to take a break, and then she snapped up George while Harry was resting. Susan seemed to lose a bit of her possessiveness when Ernie Macmillan asked her for a dance, and Ron was finally free for a waltz with Hermione.

Harry was watching his friends gliding over the floor from the sidelines when he noticed Ginny standing alone, looking a little bit sad. Harry blinked; he hadn't recognized her at first. She was wearing a cream-colored dress and long, matching gloves. The whole ensemble made her look at least a year older.

"Hello, Ginny," said Harry. "You look awfully nice."

Ginny jumped and turned red. "Harry! Um… you look nice, too."

"Where's Michael?" Harry asked.

"Oh, he's, um, dancing with another girl," said Ginny.

"Well, Ron's dancing with my date right now," said Harry.

"They're on their third," Ginny said quietly.

"Oh," said Harry. "Well… how about a dance with me?"

"Are you sure Hermione won't mind?" said Ginny.

"It's not like that," said Harry. "Trust me, she won't care."

"Okay," said Ginny, perking up a bit.

The orchestra was just starting a new song, and suddenly everyone began lining up. "What's going on?" said Harry.

"I don't know," said Ginny.

They stepped back to watch. It looked like some kind of a pattern dance; men and women faced each other in two different lines. Some couples met in the middle while others stayed behind. Partners switched more than once, and eventually pairs began to dance down the length of the lines. After they had run through the sequence once Harry felt that he had it down.

"Okay, are you ready?" he said.

"What?" exclaimed Ginny. "I've never even _seen_ this dance before!"

"Come on, it'll be fun," said Harry, pulling Ginny to the end of the line.

At first Ginny looked as if she was about ready to panic, but after they had gone through the pattern multiple times, she started to smile again. Eventually they were switching partners, only to come back to each other again. Harry felt more than a bit awkward when he found himself taking both Professor McGonagall and Professor Thornby for a turn. Ginny, however, got the shock of her life when she found herself partnered with her old professor Lupin and then Snape himself.

When the dance was over, Harry and Ginny saw what looked like half the Hogwarts student attendees applauding them in a group. Harry looked back at the shifting crowd and realized that no other students had attempted the dance.

"Gin, you danced with _Snape_!" laughed George.

"And we'll never let you forget it," said Fred.

"You owe me, Harry," said Ginny.

"Hey, it's not my fault that Snape decided to get a life," said Harry.

"Come on, they're doing another," said Ginny, pulling Harry back toward the lines. "And this time, let's stay _far_ away from Snape!"

To Harry, it seemed that the hours were flying by. Late in the evening he looked at the ornate clock on the wall and could hardly believe that it was after eleven. He had danced with what felt like half the female students, and his feet were beginning to hurt. Hermione had been his most frequent partner, but she never seemed to tire. At the moment Fred Weasley was leading her in a crazy step that Harry was sure he had invented himself. He looked around and saw Ron standing off to one side of the room, talking animatedly with a tall, handsome young man. Ron saw him looking and waved him over.

"Harry, you know who this is, don't you?" he said fervently.

"Ah, no," said Harry.

Ron smacked his forehead with his palm. "I don't believe you! This is Donald Crumpet! Seeker and Captain for the _Chudley Cannons_!"

"You're Harry Potter, right, mate?" said Donald, stretching out his hand.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Nice to meet you."

"I hear you're quite a Seeker," said Donald. "Have you ever considered going professional?"

Harry smiled nervously. "Ah, no, not really. I've been planning on becoming an Auror."

"A fine career," said Donald. "But if you ever change your mind, you could be a really hot ticket. I once heard that the English national team tried to recruit your dad, even before he graduated."

"Really?" said Harry.

"Yeah," said Donald. "The talent must run in your family – I say!" He turned to look at the person who had just bumped into him.

Harry had never seen the man before; in fact, he hadn't even seen him approach. He was swathed in black from head to toe. He had dark brown hair, a short goatee, and a pair of cold, cruel eyes. Something about him made Harry take a step backwards.

"Harry," Ron began, looking uneasily at the man, but he never got a chance to finish. The stranger pulled out his wand, pointed it at Harry, and began to Sing.


	30. Be Still My Heart

**A/N: **With the posting of "The Ministry Gala", this story has now exceeded 100,000 words. Excellent! This is the first time I've ever had such a nasty cliffhanger and I'm not even dragging it out. I'd just like to say that I'm very proud of this chapter. It gets me every time I read it. Oh, and if you've been reading faithfully but never reviewed, drop me a quick note sometime. My regular reviewers really keep me going, but new people add some lovely spice.

Flybird: How nice to see you in the reviews again! Yes, I had forgotten that you were an H/G shipper. Harry _is _starting to notice Ginny more. Who can say what the future holds?

totallystellar: You can tell me I'm a wonderful writer all you want and I'll never get tired of it! That dust is still working, but I'm getting through the sections I've already written part of. It'll slow back down just a bit soon. Frankly I think I update a heck of a lot more than most people as it is.

phoenixtearsp322: Thankfully, I have never had a dislocated shoulder myself. I _did _see a reduction on TV once. It might have been ER but I'm not sure. My parents watched the show occasionally back in the day and I saw a few of them. I looked up some medical webpages to get the treatment down right. About the Singers and wands thing – Bellaton used one when he grew the tree. (I couldn't remember, either.) Oh, and I meant to congratulate you on passing your learner's test a few days ago, but somehow it didn't make it into the author notes. So congratulations! Here's hoping you become a good, considerate driver.

Danae: I can tell you're a romantic at heart. :-)

Raphaelle: Welcome to the story! It sounds like you've been reading for a while. Thank you so much for taking the time to review! Read on and see what happens!

PrphtssP: Welcome to you as well! Thanks for reviewing. I love to see new people voicing their opinions. I hope this update is quick enough for you. Enjoy!

Chapter 30: Be Still My Heart

Harry felt unable to speak or move as the stranger Sang, and Ron seemed equally as frozen.  The man's voice was strong and it carried throughout the vast room.  Harry vaguely realized that the orchestra had stopped playing, and nearly every other sound quickly ceased.

No one moved a muscle as the Song changed subtly; there was something different about it, but Harry couldn't put his finger on it.  The stranger's eyes darted between Harry and Ron a few times, and his voice grew louder.  Harry suddenly realized what was different: the man sounded triumphant.

With one ringing note, the Song came to an abrupt end.  Harry sucked in a breath, still unable to move, certain that he was about to be struck down.  As that last note echoed in the room, the intruder looked away from Harry and pointed his wand straight at Ron.  A twisted jet of blackness shot out of it and struck the fifteen-year-old squarely in the chest.  Ron was thrown backwards into the wall where he half-stood against it, a look of complete surprise on his face.

The Song had only lasted for a few seconds, but the damage was done.  A few people screamed as Ron hit the wall; several wizards rushed forward to seize the man in black, and everyone began shouting.  The stranger whirled his cloak about himself and vanished into thin air.

Harry was finally freed of his paralysis.  "Ron!" he shouted.  Ron's look of surprise had been replaced by one of fear.  He had raised one hand to his chest and was clutching at it.  Unsupported, he began to slide down the wall.  Harry reached his friend and put one shoulder under Ron's arm; he suddenly found himself bearing Ron's entire weight, and he stumbled and almost fell.

Others had reached them now; hands grasped at Ron and stretched him prone on the floor where he lay gasping for breath, still clutching at his chest.  Harry knelt beside him.  "Back up!"  Dumbledore's voice came from very close by.  Harry looked up to see the headmaster bending over Ron, his face very white.  "Step away, give him room!" he commanded, and the crowd moved backwards to form a watching semicircle, hemming them in against the wall.

Professor Thornby and Bellaton came running up followed closely by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, Fred, George, Ginny, Bill, and Charlie.  The crowd parted to let them through.  The professors went straight to Ron, but the Weasleys stopped dead in their tracks.  Mrs. Weasley's pained cry tore the air.  The others seemed too shocked to speak.  Mr. Weasley, his face stricken, pulled his wife closer to him.

More adults had arrived on the scene: Hogwarts professors, the still-disguised Sirius, Fudge and his entourage…  The Ministry officials were pushing to get through, arguing among themselves about what was best to be done.  Dumbledore, Bellaton, and Professor Thornby conferred rapidly, ignoring the intrusions of the others.  The Weasleys and Hermione looked on in silent fear.  While all this was going on, Ron was clearly suffering.  His free hand groped at the marble floor until it seized a handful of Harry's robes and held on.  He seemed unable to speak or breathe.  Suddenly he squeezed his eyes shut and arched his back off the floor.   Harry instinctively grasped at Ron's arm and felt his friend's muscles straining.

"Help him!" screamed Mrs. Weasley.  Ginny burst into tears, and Bill caught her up in a fierce hug.

A commotion began in the watching crowd.  Other people were shouting for action to be taken.  "Do something!" several of them shouted, Bill and Charlie among them.

"What can anyone do, that man was a Singer…"

"Merlin's beard, what was that curse?"

Professor Thornby laid a hand on Harry's arm.  Harry looked up and found her staring back into his face.  Harry noted two things in that endless moment: her eyes were far bluer than he'd realized, and she seemed to be trying to tell him something without speaking.  There was a flash of heat in his arm where she touched it, she looked away, and time rushed forward again.

Professor Bellaton pointed his wand at Ron.  _"Mobilicorpus!"_  Ron floated off the floor, struggling more weakly now.  Harry let go of his friend and stepped backward to stand beside Hermione, not wanting to get in the way of whatever they were about to do.  Hermione gave him an anguished look, her eyes full of tears, and Harry took her hand and held on.  Bellaton quickly turned Ron so that he was upright with his back flat against the wall.  His feet dangled a few inches above the floor.

Professor Thornby strode forward, her wand at the ready.  She pressed one hand firmly against Ron's chest, drew a deep breath, and began to Sing.

All other sound in the room instantly stopped.  The watching crowd stood frozen in complete surprise; no one, it seemed, had known that there was a Singer among them.

It didn't take long for Harry to realize that the song had the rhythm of a heartbeat.  Professor Thornby patted Ron's chest in time with the beat, and after a few moments, Ron began to relax.  He stopped straining against the wall and simply hung there, supported by Bellaton's spell.

Professor Thornby sang steadily for a minute, and then her one voice became two and then three and four, gaining power and volume the whole time.  The watching crowd was completely transfixed.  Harry could feel that his own heart was now beating in time with the music; beside him, Hermione raised a hand to her own throat to feel her pulse.

Professor Thornby's spell seemed to have reached a pinnacle.  She pointed her wand at Ron's chest, still patting it with the other hand, and a jet of twisted white light shot out of it and into him.

Ron cried out, but the chorus drowned out the sound.  Professor Thornby drew back her wand as if she were pulling on a taut string.  The blackness that the other Singer had made suddenly sprang from Ron's chest and tangled with the white light that connected her wand to Ron.  They grappled with each other for a moment and dissipated like smoke.  Ron's body fell limp, Professor Thornby stopped Singing, and Bellaton drifted Ron down to the floor again.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley rushed forward, followed by their children.  Dumbledore bent over Ron, felt at his neck for a moment, then stood back up and nodded.  "He's all right," he said.  Hermione sagged against Harry.  A murmur rippled through the room and the crowd fell silent again.  It was so quiet that Mrs. Weasley's soft tears of relief were clearly audible.  She and her husband gently gathered their unconscious son into their arms and cradled him close.

Everyone was staring at Professor Thornby, some with awe, some with barely concealed fright.  She stood alone a short distance from the Weasley family, still as a statue, meeting the crowd stare for stare.

"Well, Minister," said a cold voice from the edge of the crowd, "aren't you going to arrest her?"  Harry shuddered.  Oh, how he hated that sound!  He looked around to see Lucius Malfoy watching Professor Thornby, a sardonic little smile on his lips.  Next to him stood Dolores Umbridge.  The horrible look of triumph on her face was almost frightening.

Fudge blinked.  "I beg your pardon, Lucius?"

"She has flouted the law," drawled Mr. Malfoy.  "Decree number one thousand, one hundred and twenty-two: no person shall employ the ancient art of Singing in any way, shape, or form."

A buzzing sound rose from the watching crowd.

"I have never heard of any such decree," said Dumbledore sharply, looking at Fudge.

"It was signed into law just a few days ago," said Mr. Malfoy silkily.

Fudge seemed to shrink under Dumbledore's glare.  "Well, yes, it was," he said, clearly flustered.  "We just hadn't gotten around to announcing it yet.  Everyone's been rather busy preparing for the Gala, you see."  The buzz from the crowd grew louder.

"Too busy to publicize a law, but not too busy to make it," Dumbledore said, his eyes flashing.

"Well, then," purred Mr. Malfoy.  "I see no reason to delay."

"No, nor do I," Fudge said briskly, regaining some of his composure.  "Macnair?  Arroway?"  The two men he named moved forward.  Umbridge rubbed her hands together in glee.

Professor Thornby stepped back, her wand half-raised.  "You can't possibly expect me to go along with this cock-and-bull story," she said bitterly.

Fudge's face darkened.  "You don't believe me?"

"No, I don't," she said.  "It's rather convenient, don't you think?  Almost as if you were expecting something like this to happen."  Her eyes shifted from Fudge to Malfoy and back again.

Macnair and Arroway started to move forward once more, but Professor Thornby stretched her wand out before her.  The crowd gasped.  "Produce the decree, and if Professor Dumbledore is satisfied with its authenticity, I will come quietly."

Fudge puffed out his chest, looking like nothing so much as a bantam rooster.  "How dare you threaten me?  I am the Minister of Magic, and I do not lie –"

"I would think," Professor Thornby interrupted, her voice flat and hard, "that a woman facing Azkaban would give you pause.  She might resort to an act of desperation."  She pointed her wand right between Fudge's eyes.  "Humor me."

Fudge scowled, but he motioned to someone at the back of his crowd of lickspittles.  The Ministry officials shifted around, and Percy Weasley emerged to stand beside the Minister.

Percy glanced down at Ron and his parents on the floor, looking very conflicted.  The rest of his siblings looked back at him with expressions of shock.

"Mr. Weasley, go to my office and fetch Decree number one thousand, one hundred and twenty-two," said Fudge in his most pompous tone.

"Certainly, Minister," said Percy, and with another worried glance at his family, he Disapparated.

During the two minutes that he was gone the tension in the room stretched tighter and tighter.  Macnair and Arroway made no further moves toward Professor Thornby who remained motionless, her wand still pointing at Fudge's face.  Harry wondered how it was that her outstretched arm never trembled.

Finally Percy reappeared with a pop.  In his hands he carried a scroll of parchment.  He handed it to Dumbledore who unrolled it and began to read.  He passed his own wand over its surface a few times and announced, "It is perfectly authentic, Professor."

"Very well," she said, and lowered her arm.  In a twinkling Macnair and Arroway seized her wand and each took hold of one of her arms.

Rage welled up in Harry as he watched Macnair leer at his guardian in triumph.  He gripped his own wand tightly and began to stride forward only to be jerked backward by Bellaton's hand.  Harry hadn't even noticed him come up behind him.  Their eyes met, and Bellaton's head gave a tiny shake.

A murmur of disapproval ran through the crowd.  "You can't be serious!" cried Professor McGonagall.  "She saved that young man's life!  How can a born talent be a crime?"

"She chose to exercise it," said Mr. Malfoy.

"This is ridiculous," snapped Professor McGonagall.  "You can't arrest her for breaking a rule that she didn't know existed!"

"I don't think this is the time or place to discuss the niceties of the decree," said Fudge quickly.  "Of course we will examine this case in detail, but for now I fear we must follow the letter of the law and arrest her."

"There is one more thing before we summon the dementors," said Mr. Malfoy.  His small smile widened.  "Precautionary measures must be taken when dealing with Singers."  He stretched out his hand, waved his wand, and a small black box appeared on his open palm.  "You must be silenced."

Professor Thornby jerked violently in her captors' grips.  They reacted swiftly, twisting her arms behind her back, but she still continued to struggle.  "What?" she shouted.

"There was no mention of this in the decree," said Dumbledore in a very hard voice.

"Oh, didn't I mention the _other_ decree?" said Mr. Malfoy lightly.  "Number one thousand, one hundred and twenty-_three_ requires that the voice of any arrested Singer be confiscated.  And don't bother asking to see it," he sneered at Professor Thornby.  "You're in no position to make demands now."

"Monster!" she spat.  "Do what you will - you Death Eaters still won't win."

Mr. Malfoy's face twisted into a snarl.  He opened the box and raised his wand.  "Down!" he snapped, and Macnair and Arroway forced her to her knees.

Every member of the Hogwarts staff began shouting in protest – everyone but Snape, who was watching Mr. Malfoy with an unreadable expression.

"Do not do this, Cornelius," Dumbledore said gravely.  "This is wrong and you know it."

Fudge shook his head.  "It is the law," he said stubbornly.

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing.  Surely Dumbledore wasn't going to just stand there?

Professor Thornby raised her chin defiantly.

"_Intertias vocis_!" cried Mr. Malfoy.

Professor Thornby's head jerked back as if she had been pushed.  Her mouth was closed, but Harry could hear a jumbled mess of sounds drifting through the air toward Mr. Malfoy; bits of song, laughter, and speech, all tumbled over each other.  When the voice stopped moving, Mr. Malfoy snapped the lid of the box shut and the sound was cut off.  Arroway let go of one of Professor Thornby's arms, and she raised one trembling hand to her throat.  Her eyes were wide and disbelieving.

The great oaken doors at the other end of the hall banged open.  Two dementors stood framed in the doorway.  They strode forward and the crowd parted to let them through, pressing back as far as they could.

Professor Thornby watched the dementors approach, a defeated expression on her face.  Dumbledore leaned over and whispered something in her ear.  She nodded but never took her eyes off of the oncoming dementors.

They stopped right in front of her.  Harry felt the familiar chill and heard his mother's screams once again.  He longed to summon his Patronus right then and there; only Bellaton's viselike grip on his arm kept him from doing so.

Macnair and Arroway raised Professor Thornby to her feet.  The dementors took their places and flanked her, taking her arms in their rotting hands.  She shivered, closed her eyes, and moved forward with them, leaving the way they had come.  Harry watched helplessly, his whole body quivering with the urge to draw his wand and dispose of the dementors, Fudge, Umbridge, and Mr. Malfoy.

When the doors slammed shut again it was as if a Silencing Charm had been lifted from the room.  Everyone exploded in talk; people swarmed back into the gap they had made for the dementors to walk through.  Mr. Malfoy, Umbridge, and Fudge quickly moved off with a gaggle of other Ministry officials, leaving the stunned Hogwarts professors behind.  Only then did Bellaton release his grip on Harry.

Dumbledore looked down at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who were still on the floor with Ron.  "Arthur, Molly," he said, "I think it is time to take Ronald home."

"Yes," said Mrs. Weasley, scrubbing at her damp cheeks.  "Yes, let's go."

Mr. Weasley cast a Levitating Charm on Ron who floated up off the floor.  Bill and Charlie each took up a position on either side of their brother, keeping him steady as they moved him forward.

Percy was standing a short distance away with Fudge's friends.  There was genuine concern on his face as he watched his family go.  Fred and George glared at him before following their parents.  Ginny said an anxious farewell to Harry and Hermione, and in short order the Weasleys had exited through a side door.

"Harry, Hermione," said Dumbledore.  "It is time for you to leave as well.  Come with me."  They obediently followed him to a deserted cloakroom.  Dumbledore reached into his robes, pulled out his magnificent pocketwatch, and set it down on a pile of cloaks.  _"Portus."_  The watch trembled slightly and glowed blue for a moment.  "This will take you both back to Alverbrooke," said Dumbledore softly.  "I will come as soon as I can, but I must deal with a few other matters here, and immediately.  I will bring as many of the Weasleys as will join me."

Harry and Hermione nodded their understanding.  "Off with you, then," said Dumbledore.

They reached forward to touch the pocketwatch together.

In moments they found themselves in the breakfast room at Alverbrooke.  Bellaton was already there, gazing out over the grounds.  The moonlight streaming through the large window cast odd shadows on his stony face.  He seemed too absorbed in his dark thoughts to notice Harry and Hermione's arrival.

Harry stood dazedly in the middle of the room, all of his attention fixed on Dumbledore's pocketwatch.  He ran his thumb over the case again and again, feeling the smooth, polished surface.  He wondered vaguely how that one sensation could be so interesting when he couldn't seem to keep any other thought in his head.  He was unaware of Hermione breaking down beside him until her first sob shattered the quiet.  Pitiful noises sounded from behind her hands as she struggled to regain her composure.

Harry paused awkwardly for a moment, then put his arms around Hermione and pulled her into a hug.  She threw her arms around him in turn and wept into his shoulder.  Harry could feel her tears soaking through his stiff white shirt.

Professor Bellaton appeared beside them, his hard features softened.  "Come now, Hermione," he said gently.  "All is not lost.  Ron's alive, and we're not going to forget about Celeste."  Hermione pulled back from Harry, sniffing, and Harry let go of her.  "Sit and have a cup of tea.  Everything will be all right."

Hermione allowed herself to be led to a wicker chair.  She sank down onto its soft cushion with a sigh, and Harry took the chair next to hers.  Bellaton brought them each a cup of hot, strong tea.  They accepted wordlessly, and he returned to his silent vigil at the window.

Hermione seemed to have spent all her energy in her flood of tears and drifted off to sleep almost immediately.  Harry must have been just as exhausted as Hermione, because the next thing he knew he was opening his eyes to the sight of Dumbledore stepping out of the fireplace.  Next to him, Hermione sleepily raised her head from her arms.  Sirius and Lupin were sitting in chairs near them.  There was an emptiness in Lupin's eyes that made Harry shiver.

The fire roared green, and Mr. Weasley stepped out.  Bill, Fred, George, and Ginny followed in quick succession, all of whom looked very tired.

Dumbledore spoke up.  "I know it is late, but I do not think that our discussion should wait until tomorrow."  There was a murmur of assent, and everyone found chairs.

"Ron is sleeping soundly.  Molly and Charlie are sitting up with him," said Mr. Weasley, settling himself in a straight-backed chair from the table.

"Bill, Fred, George, Ginny," said Dumbledore, looking gravely at them over his half-moon glasses, "in light of what has happened, it seems best to me that you should know exactly what Professors Bellaton and Thornby were doing at Hogwarts."

Bellaton did not look up at the many pairs of eyes that were suddenly fixed upon him.  "We agreed long ago that telling you might be necessary," Dumbledore continued, "but none of you must repeat this to anyone.  You should not even speak of it; it is of utmost importance that Voldemort" – the Weasleys flinched – "does not learn of it.  Walls have ears; I cannot impress enough upon you the seriousness of this matter."

"What about Charlie?" said Fred.

"Leave him to me," said Dumbledore.  "Now, the beginning of this story most of you will already know, though some of you should not."  He proceeded to tell how Harry had been poisoned over the summer; Fred, George, and Ginny blushed like sunsets when Dumbledore's gaze fell upon them.  The bit about how Professor Thornby had saved Harry's life and become his guardian, however, was completely new to all four of the Weasley children.  Bellaton's role as protector of the rest of the student body was news to them as well.

"Wait a minute," said Ginny.  "If Professor Thornby is only supposed to be _Harry's_ guardian, then why didn't Professor Bellaton help Ron?"

Bellaton stood up and began to pace around the circle of chairs.  "I think we should explain what happened to Ron before we answer that," he said.  "It was John Grayson who attacked your brother tonight.  He is one of two Death Eaters – that we know of – who is also a Singer.  Grayson used the Heart Stopper curse, also known as _Cordesino_.  The victim's heart stops beating and they perish."  Mr. Weasley hid his face in one hand.

"_That_ was the Heart Stopper?" said Fred.  "Bloody hell…"

"Yes.  I know that Celeste told you about it in class," said Bellaton.  "You should also remember that some Songs can be counteracted with regular incantations.  This one cannot.  I would have performed the counterspell myself but for this accursed sore throat.  Celeste had to save Ron, or no one could."

"Why does Voldemort want to kill my little brother?" asked Bill in a very hard voice.

"You can't guess?" said Bellaton.

Harry knew why.  "The prophecy," he said.

"That is the most logical explanation," said Dumbledore.

"But it was so vague," said George.  "Professor Trelawney never gave names."

"Prophecies almost never involve names," said Lupin flatly.  "They need to be deciphered."

"Voldemort arrived at the same conclusion that everyone else did: the prophecy was about Harry, Ronald, and Hermione," said Dumbledore.

"That's not what I meant," said Bill.  "What I want to know is why Grayson went for Ron instead of Harry!  Surely Harry is a greater danger to You-Know-Who than my brother!"

Sirius' chair creaked loudly.  His knuckles were white as he gripped the arms.

"Not that I want Harry to be attacked," said Bill, stretching out a placating hand.  Sirius raised one eyebrow, but was satisfied enough to lean back in his chair again.

"I thought he _was_ going for me," said Harry.  "He turned at the last second and cursed Ron instead."

"I must admit that I do not know why Grayson settled on Ronald in the end," said Dumbledore.  "But nothing is ever simple; killing him was not Grayson's only goal tonight.  Celeste was right about one thing – the timing of this 'law'.  It was designed to trap anyone who tried to stop the attack, which Lucius would have known about."

"How could Voldemort have known that Celeste was a Singer?" said Lupin coldly.

"I do not think that he did know," said Dumbledore.  "It is more likely he has simply had a suspicion that I have Singers allied with me.  Voldemort executed a brilliant scheme tonight.  Whatever happened after Ronald was cursed, he would emerge victorious.  Only another Singer could undo what Grayson had done.  If no one stepped forward, then he had successfully killed an enemy.  If someone did, then he had unmasked a powerful foe, and imprisoned them to boot."

"How could you let them take Professor Thornby to Azkaban?" said Ginny.  "She didn't do anything wrong and everybody knows it.  It's not a fair law."

"You are quite correct.  The law is most unjust," said Dumbledore.  "But think about it, Miss Weasley.  Letting Celeste be arrested was better than the alternative.  If she went quietly, then we lost her to Azkaban; the only other option for her was to resist.  She would have had to fight too many people to succeed on her own, and that would have left me in the position of having to take sides.  And if I had fought with her, it would have been a declaration of war against the Minister of Magic.  Fudge may not be directly involved with Voldemort, but Lucius Malfoy is whispering in his ear, and I cannot even begin to speculate as to Dolores Umbridge's allegiance.  We cannot afford to be in open conflict with Fudge; like it or not, he helms the government and needs little excuse to come after us.  We would be crushed between Voldemort and the Ministry, leaving Voldemort's way free and clear."

"So she sacrificed herself," said Sirius darkly.

"In a manner of speaking," said Dumbledore.  "It was the best possible outcome for us, as terrible as it was.  Ronald is alive and Hogwarts remains a safe haven."

"Does V-Voldemort know about Professor Bellaton?" said Hermione.

"I don't think so," said Bellaton.  "It's no secret that Celeste and I are friends, but I did my best to act surprised when she started to Sing.  Malfoy barely even glanced at me the whole time.  Still, they might figure out that if one of the new Hogwarts professors is a Singer, then the other one might be, too."

"I will tell you now that I will not allow Professor Bellaton to be taken to Azkaban," said Dumbledore.  "We need at least one Singer at Hogwarts to protect the students.  If such a standoff should occur again – well, we will have no choice but to fight."

Harry was suddenly awash in a torrent of mental warnings.  His brain seemed to be shouting at him: _Fear__!  Sorrow!  Danger! _ He pressed a hand to his forehead.

"What is it?" said Sirius, his voice full of concern.

"I think Professor Thornby's in trouble!" Harry exclaimed.  "I don't know how I know."

"A Binding works both ways," said Bellaton.  "Just as she knows when you're in danger, you know when she's in danger."

"It is most likely that she has just arrived at Azkaban," Dumbledore said heavily.  Every one of his years seemed to be weighing on his shoulders.

"What happens to her now?" said Hermione.

"We fight for her release," said Dumbledore.  "We will use every legal recourse possible –"

"Legal recourse?" Lupin said harshly.  Sirius laid a hand on his arm, but Lupin shook it off.  "Fudge will never let her go!  Don't you understand that?  The only way to get her back is to _take_ her!"

"Be calm, Remus," said Dumbledore.  It was clearly not a request.  "I understand how you must feel –"

"How can you _possibly _understand how I feel?" Lupin shouted.

Dumbledore rose to the challenge, his voice full of power and command.  "You are not the only one who experienced a loss tonight," he said.  The words rolled out of him like thunder.  "I have lost many friends and loved ones in the past.  If you think my heart unscarred, I will beg to differ."

The others looked back and forth between Lupin and Dumbledore with wide eyes.  Lupin held Dumbledore's glare for a moment but gradually faltered under the piercing blue gaze.  "I am sorry," he said.  "I spoke without thinking."

"There is no need for apologies," Dumbledore said kindly.  "Wounds of this sort make us lash out at those we should turn to for aid.  Believe me when I say that I will not stop at legal avenues.  In fact I do not expect them to succeed, but Celeste will not languish in Azkaban forever.  You may be sure of that."  His blue eyes flashed, and no one needed him to further articulate what he meant.

"What about Ron and Hermione?" said Mr. Weasley.  "This John Grayson chose to attack my son tonight, not Harry, and if he did it because of this prophecy…"

"I'm next," whispered Hermione.

Dumbledore nodded.  "The same thought has occurred to me.  I will be thinking on this for the next few days.  It may be that Ronald and Hermione need to have a guardian themselves.  Celeste may be in prison and unable to speak, but the Binding remains, and it cannot be removed in absentia.  She will continue to serve as Harry's shield.  In her absence, Ardoc will have to be her hands."

"We still have one thing to be thankful for," said Bellaton.  "Voldemort doesn't know that Celeste is Harry's guardian."

"More than that," said Dumbledore, "he does not know that Harry has a dedicated protector at all, and this _must_ remain a secret.  The only way it would become known is if Celeste had need to truly exercise her powers as his guardian.  I do not see how she could do this from inside Azkaban, especially voiceless."

"Won't they want to question her?" said Bill quietly.

For the first time, Dumbledore looked uncertain.  "I do not think that they will.  Not yet, at least.  They would have to restore her voice to enable her to answer questions, and they will not feel safe doing that for some time.  She is innocent of any malicious intent, and that means that she will not be as affected by Azkaban as the guilty are."

"You mean she won't suffer?" Harry said hopefully.

"Oh, she will suffer," said Dumbledore gravely.  "Everyone who goes to Azkaban does, but the clearer the prisoner's conscience, the more bearable the experience.  Remember, the dementors leech the joy out of everything.  Their charges inevitably look inward for consolation and only find darkness there.  Unlike the guilty, Celeste will retain an inner strength.  Lucius will never restore her voice until he is certain that she is broken.  She is a very powerful Singer."

Harry felt ill.  He could think of ways to "break" Professor Thornby, and she wouldn't need her voice during any of them.  In fact, the Death Eaters might prefer silence to their victims' screams.

"Excuse me," Lupin whispered hoarsely, rising from his chair.  No one missed the shining streaks that ran down the length of his face as he fairly ran from the room.

Everyone fell silent.  After a few long moments of this, Dumbledore suggested disbanding.  No one responded.

"Very well," said Dumbledore.  "Arthur, I will stop by tomorrow to talk with Molly and Charlie.  Ronald, too, if he is awake."

Mr. Weasley nodded.  Everyone stood up; a few brief farewells were exchanged, and the Weasleys trudged wearily to the fireplace and Flooed back to the Burrow, one by one.

After they had gone, Dumbledore turned to address Hermione.  "Miss Granger, your parents are expecting you home shortly."

Harry thought Hermione looked nervous as she nodded her response.  _Why shouldn't she be?  Voldemort just tried to kill Ron, and he might be after her, too,_ he thought.

"What can I tell them?" she asked.

"I will be escorting you home tonight," said Dumbledore.  "Your parents and I will have a chat before I go.  Neither you nor Harry will be taking the train back to Hogwarts.  Professor McGonagall will fetch you both herself tomorrow evening.  Now, are you nearly ready?"

Hermione said her goodbyes to Sirius and Bellaton.  When she turned to Harry tears welled up in her eyes again and she hugged him tightly.

"You'll have to tell me how you live with it," she said, releasing him and wiping her eyes.

"With what?" said Harry.

"Fear," she replied.

Harry smiled bitterly.  "See you tomorrow," he said, wishing he could think of something more comforting to say.

"Yeah," Hermione whispered.

Dumbledore retrieved his pocketwatch from Harry and enchanted it once again.  He and Hermione each stretched out a hand to touch it and vanished.

A few minutes later Harry found himself lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling.  It was perfectly silent in the house, but his mind was still racing like wildfire.  He had told no one what had passed between him and Professor Thornby just before she Healed Ron.  Even if he had understood what she had been trying to tell him, it had been a quiet moment between the two of them and Harry wasn't keen to share it.  What wasn't clear to him was whether or not she could continue to protect him while imprisoned in Azkaban.  He doubted it was possible; even Dumbledore had indicated that he didn't think she could do it.

Harry couldn't sleep, haunted as he was by the utter hopelessness that he had seen on Professor Thornby's face that night.  The warnings were still assaulting him, but they were growing fainter by the hour.  He supposed that they would fade away entirely as Professor Thornby remained in Azkaban and nothing more happened to her.  The idea of getting used to a place like that made him feel sick.  Harry cast about with his mind, trying to gauge the distance between them, but he couldn't; he could barely sense his guardian at all.

Eventually Harry drifted off in spite of himself, but his sleep was troubled by dreams of Umbridge, Malfoy and Fudge, who were laughing as Professor Thornby struggled to stand beneath a pile of chains.


	31. Difficult Truths

**A/N: **So much has happened in the last five chapters that I feel rather spent, so don't be surprised if the next update isn't here tomorrow.  I never take a break from writing for very long, though; usually it only takes a day or two before I move forward again.  I did start another "story" and I have posted the first installment.  It's basically scenes from this story that Harry didn't witness.  I thought it might be fun to write some of those, and so far it has been.  It's therapy for when I'm feeling stuck on a particular section of the main tale.  If I sound a little subdued in my responses below, well, I'm feeling a bit tired and down, but it's not because of you guys.  It's just been a long, hard day.

Thorfinna: You are very kind.  Reading the story through in one sitting must have really been something.  I hope it flows okay.

PhoenixTearsp322: If you're starting to come up with lines of your own, maybe it's a sign that it's time to write a story of your own.  :-)  In Phoenix Fudge saw the light before it was too late.  Of course, he could have gone the other way...  I think it's a possibility worth exploring.

Danae: Fudge has surrounded himself with yes men and people with evil intentions (Malfoy).  As a result, he is slowly being corrupted.  Thank you so much for the review!

jesse: Nice to meet you!  Thanks for the great feedback!

Huskerinexile: I'm going to take a shot in the dark and guess that you're from Nebraska, but you don't live there anymore.  When I read your review I got this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, because I realized exactly what you were talking about.  It's been YEARS since I saw The Little Mermaid, but you're right – that scene seemed way too much like the movie.  It's been bothering me ever since.  I've been subtly reworking those several lines ever since so the comparison isn't so obvious, because that's not what I was going for at all.  I also did not mean to imply that Malfoy kept the box, but rather that it ended up in Ministry keeping.  Fudge certainly won't let anyone near it who isn't a close supporter of his, though.

totallystellar: Hmm, maybe you're right about the story genre.  Yeah, it would be fun to write a chapter where Harry busts Professor Thornby out... but don't hold your breath.  That would be a little bit too "Superhero Harry" for this story.  ;-)

Kaye: Glad you're feeling better!  Bellaton was the only thing that kept Harry from trying to take everybody on at once.  Blame him, but he had good reasons.  :-)

Claudia: Another newcomer who read the story in one go!  I'm really glad you liked it, and welcome, welcome, welcome!

captuniv: I guess I am starting to lean toward the dark side just a little, but Harry's more mature than he was in Phoenix, so he can handle things better.  Whiny Harry was just such a big pain in the butt... I couldn't write him that way.  Thank you so much for reviewing!

Jedi Buttercup: Nice to see you, as always!  At least one of your questions will get answered in this chapter – why Ron was cursed instead of Harry.

Jemma Blackwell (Penny): Your reviews warmed my heart.  Really.  Thank you so much for the encouragement.  I believe that I am my own harshest critic, so it's absolutely wonderful to know that you thought the story was worth spending your time on.  I hope you continue to be entertained!

Chapter 31: Difficult Truths

When Harry opened his eyes the next morning it took him a moment to remember where he was and why.  The events of the night before came rushing back into his head, and his heart sank into his feet.  He sat up with a groan, feeling as if he hadn't slept at all.  Then again, he had been up for half the night.

Harry didn't feel like seeing anyone else, but his stomach was grumbling too loudly to ignore.  He staggered down to the breakfast room to find all three adults already there.  Each seemed lost in his own world.  The circles under Lupin's eyes told Harry that he hadn't gotten any rest.  Sirius was picking at his food, and Bellaton was poring over the _Daily Prophet_.

"Good morning, Harry," Sirius said quietly.  "Did you sleep?"

"A little, but not well," Harry admitted.

"You look like I feel – awful," said Sirius.

"Have some breakfast.  You'll feel better," said Bellaton, not looking up from his study of the paper.

"Look who's talking," Sirius scoffed.  "You've barely touched your food."

Harry refrained from mentioning the fact that Sirius wasn't eating either.  "What are they saying?" Harry asked Bellaton.

"Actually, it's not bad," he said, looking up at Harry for the first time.  His face was as haggard as Lupin's.  "Fudge is taking a hit from the press on the 'secret law' thing, and Grayson was identified by several bystanders.  In general, Celeste is coming out as the victim – her and Ron both – even though everyone knows what she is now."  He looked at Harry's empty plate.  "Eat," he repeated.

Harry took a sausage and some fruit, but everything tasted like ashes in his mouth.  _I wonder what they serve for breakfast in Azkaban,_ he thought.

Harry was forcing down a chunk of banana when there came a tapping sound at the window.  "Pigwidgeon!" Harry exclaimed, jumping up to let the tiny owl in.  Pigwidgeon was normally a hyperactive bird, but at the moment he was very calm – almost subdued.  Harry took the attached letter and eagerly tore it open.

_Dearest Harry,_

_We thought you'd like to know that Ron is awake and doing well.  His chest seems to be paining him a bit, but Healer Bigelow from St. Mungo's is here to look after him.  He says that Ron should make a full recovery.  Ron won't be returning to school just yet, of course, but Dumbledore will let you know when he's coming._

_I want to thank you for standing by Ron last night.  It means the world to me and to all of us.  If you ever need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask.  You know that we think of you as family here, and you will always be welcome at the Burrow._

_With love,_

_Molly_

_P.S.  I am so sorry about everything._

Harry folded up the letter.  He knew exactly whom Mrs. Weasley meant by "everything".

"What's up?" said Sirius.

"Ron's awake," said Harry.

"That's good," said Lupin.  It was the first thing Harry had heard him say since leaving the conference the night before.

Pigwidgeon hooted dolefully.  Harry stroked the tiny owl with one finger and gave him some bits of a muffin.  He had heard it said that owls were affected by the mood of their owners; if Pigwidgeon's odd behavior was any guide, there was plenty of truth to that saying.  "Hold on, Pig, and I'll send something back with you," said Harry.  He stood up from the table and headed for the writing desk in the next room.  Pigwidgeon fluttered after him, hooting the whole way.  It was as if he were urging Harry to hurry up.

Harry pulled out a clean sheet of parchment and a quill.  He waved Pigwidgeon out of the way, dipped the quill in an inkpot, and began to write.

_Dear Molly,_

_Thanks for letting me know about Ron. I'm really glad that he's awake.  Tell him to hurry up and get better, because otherwise class will be really dull, and Snape needs someone to beat up on._

_Yours,_

_Harry_

_P.S. Thanks for all those nice things you said._

Harry folded up the letter and dripped some candle wax on the flap.  He made the little lightning bolt seal he'd invented and reached for the owl.  Pigwidgeon was hopping around so much that Harry almost couldn't tie it to his leg, but he managed somehow.  Harry carried him back to the window and tossed him out.  "Safe journey, Pig," he said.  Pigwidgeon wobbled around in the air for a few seconds before catching a breeze and soaring away.

Harry was just shutting the window when the fireplace roared green and Dumbledore stepped out.  "Good morning, everyone," he said gravely.  "As you see, Ardoc, I received your owl.  I have much to do today, so whatever it is, I hope you can discuss it now."

"At least you could have _told_ us that Albus was coming," Sirius grumbled.  "We look like we just rolled out of bed."

"We did just roll out of bed," said Bellaton.  "My apologies.  I sent the owl in the middle of the night."

Dumbledore cleared his throat.  "Rudeness is not my intention, Ardoc, but I really do not have much time to linger."

"You might want to sit down for this," said Bellaton.

Everyone paused.  Harry took his seat at the table again and Lupin looked up.  Dumbledore raised one snowy eyebrow.  "Very well," he said, pulling up a chair.  "You have my full attention."

"I know why Grayson attacked Ron instead of Harry last night," said Bellaton.

Now he really had everyone's attention.  "Why?" said Sirius.

"He was sent to assassinate Harry, I'm sure of it, but he changed his mind at the last second," said Bellaton.  He paused for a moment and then said, "Ron is a Singer."

Harry felt like the ground had just fallen away beneath him.

"_What_?" said Lupin in hushed tones.

"Are you certain, absolutely certain?" said Dumbledore anxiously.

"Oh, yes," said Bellaton.  "I felt a resonance from him while Celeste was Singing.  Celeste must know as well.  If I noticed it, then she must have felt it more strongly.  She was touchinghim."

"Why didn't you say anything before?" said Sirius.

"We had enough to deal with last night," said Bellaton.  "Besides, I wasn't sure that it should be made common knowledge quite yet."

"So now we know what Ronald's potential is," said Dumbledore softly.  "Unfortunately, Voldemort knows as well."

"He should begin training as soon as possible," said Bellaton.

"Hold on there," said Sirius.  "Surely you're going to see how Ron feels about this?  He doesn't even know yet!"

"Ron will eventually Sing, even without training," said Bellaton.  "The problem is, he'll make things happen without meaning to, like setting the house on fire or calling down a thunderstorm.  At this point it's just a question of when."

"This isn't like what happened to me, is it?" said Harry.  "What I mean is – whatever Professor Thornby did – is it as powerful as _Donum Vitae_ or _Avada Kedavra_?"

"No and no," said Bellaton.  "Ron did not gain the ability to Sing because of what Celeste did, and her spell was not as powerful as that.  He must have been born with the talent.  Harry, I must confess that I never expected Ron to have this skill – I expected you to have it."

"Why?" said Harry.  "Because of _Donum Vitae?"_

"Yes," said Bellaton.  "After I grew the Bristlebark Tree in the garden last summer, Celeste told me that she thought she had felt a resonance.  We neither of us gave it much thought until you used _Donum Vitae to save Severus' life.  Once we realized how you had learned it, we assumed that you had also gained the talent of Singing, and that it had been you that Celeste felt in the garden."  He shook his head.  "But you, Ron, and Hermione were all listening that day.  It was Ron all along."_

Dumbledore sighed and rubbed his forehead.  "You have not made my task any easier, Ardoc," he said.  "Very well.  I will go speak to Molly, Arthur, and Ronald before I go to Azkaban.  It will be up to them to decide how to handle this and whether or not to tell their other children."

"You're going to Azkaban?" said Lupin, perking up.

"I will never get there if I sit here and answer questions all day," Dumbledore said.

"Will you tell her that… that…"

Dumbledore smiled.  "I will.  Get some rest, Remus.  You will do her no good if you waste away to nothing."

"Thank you," said Lupin, sitting back in his chair.  He looked relieved and weary, as if he had been waiting for permission to sleep.

"I take my leave," said Dumbledore.  "I will leave it to you, Harry, to inform Hermione.  I trust that you will do this discreetly."

"Yes, sir," Harry said proudly.

"Keep your spirits up, all of you," said Dumbledore.  "I will return later today."  He threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace and stepped in.  "The Burrow!" he said loudly, and he was gone.

"If no one objects, I'm going to bed," said Lupin.

"Same here," said Bellaton.

Sirius and Harry voiced no complaints, and they were soon alone in the breakfast room.

"Sirius," said Harry after a moment, "what is Azkaban like?"

Sirius turned a pair of shadowed eyes on his godson.  "I'm not sure you want to know," he said.

"Yes, I do," said Harry.

"Knowing will only make this harder for you."

"I don't care."

Sirius sighed.  "I suppose you're old enough to handle it.  Ever since you came to Hogwarts you've been handling things that most full-grown wizards would balk at.  Where to begin… with the island itself, I suppose.  It's in the middle of a vast lake somewhere in Britain."

Harry frowned.  "What lake is that?"

Sirius shook his head.  "I don't know its proper name or exactly where it is, but Dumbledore probably does.  It's a place like Hogwarts; Muggles can't find it.  In fact, I'm not sure that wizards can find it unless someone tells them where it is."

"Why don't you know where it is?" said Harry.  "You swam the lake and left on foot from the other side."

"I don't remember too much about my arrival beyond the boat ride," said Sirius, "and when I escaped, I simply walked until I found a town.  I don't remember the name of the town either.  I was desperate to get to you before Peter did you in, and there wasn't room for much else in my head.  Besides, I never wanted to go back again.  Why would I care where Azkaban was?"

Sirius took a sip from his coffee cup and continued.  "A fortress stands on the island.  It's tall and black and cold.  Believe me, when you're sitting in the boat with the dementors, watching that thing drift closer and closer… you know your life is over."  He frowned at Harry's expression.  "I told you this wouldn't be easy," he said, "but I'm not going to sugarcoat it for you."

"I don't want you to," Harry said.

"There are cells inside," said Sirius.  "That's what most of the fortress is – cells.  Hundreds of them.  You have to do something pretty terrible to get sent to Azkaban, but you'd be surprised at how many are taken.  I explored the fortress as a dog many times before I finally escaped.  I had to find the best way out, you see.  Harry, there are people in there that have been long forgotten.  Their friends and families are dead; their files gather dust in Ministry file cabinets.  No one even remembers that they exist."

Harry swallowed hard.

"The dementors are always present.  Every day they glide through the halls, feeding off the prisoners' emotions.  You know what they're like.  Imagine being close to them every day for the rest of your miserable life.  I remember one time not too long after I came there; a young man was put in the cell next to mine.  For a full day he screamed that he was innocent.  The next day he began babbling about how he hadn't meant to do it, and the next he was shouting utter nonsense.  Completely mad in less than three days."  Sirius gazed sadly into his cup.

"Does it always happen so fast?" Harry asked.

"It depends," said Sirius.  "Most take a bit longer than that, though.  Eventually they just give up, you see.  They lose all hope and there's no reason to live, so they stop doing anything at all, including eating.  You can't starve to death, though, even if you aren't aware of what you're doing; the dementors keep you healthy enough to go on living.  If you don't eat, they come in and hold your mouth open while they pour stew down your throat.  

"Not everyone goes mad, of course.  I kept my sanity, but as Remus can tell you, I am not the same person that I once was.  Sometimes bits of my old self show through, but he's only a shadow now.  A shadow and a memory."

"But you were a special case," said Harry.  "You were innocent, so you had a reason to keep on going."

"That's not what kept me sane," said Sirius.  "Innocent people can go mad just as easily as the guilty.  Dumbledore told the truth when he said that they don't suffer as much as the guilty do, but that doesn't last forever.  You have to resist that little voice inside that chips away at you, telling you that you deserve to be where you are.  The eventual breaking of an innocent prisoner is one of the sweetest treats for a dementor.  When they sense that one is near the brink, they swarm around the cell like locusts, feeding off the downward spiral.

"It was the desire for revenge that kept me whole, Harry.  I know it sounds awful, but it's true.  I wanted the world to know what Peter had done.  Time passed, though, and I began to realize that I would die in Azkaban one day.  I was giving in, but then I saw that photograph in Fudge's newspaper, and I found a new reason to live – you.  Of course, some of the guilty stay sane, too.  I have heard that Bellatrix Lestrange is as much her old self as she ever was."  He shivered.  "I can't even begin to imagine how black her soul must be to be virtually unaffected by Azkaban."

"What about Professor Thornby?" Harry said softly.

"Dumbledore thinks she'll make it," said Sirius.  "She's a strong woman.  She knew what might happen if her talent was revealed, and she chose to go ahead and reveal it.  She has that knowledge and her duty to you to keep her sane."

"But she didn't really have a choice," said Harry.  "It was either Sing or let Ron die!"

"No, Harry.  She _did have a choice, even if we all knew which one she would make.  It was _leave you behind_ or let Ron die.  And it wasn't just you she left – it was Albus, Ardoc, and Remus, too.  Think about it, Harry.  Ron wasn't the person she was assigned to protect – _you _were.  It can't have been easy for her to forsake her duty."_

Despite Sirius' reassurances, Harry was worried about his guardian.  The loss of her voice had obviously struck her hard.  Harry had no doubt that Malfoy had done it to demoralize her as much as to render her talent useless.

"Dumbledore will boost her spirits," Sirius said gently.  "He'll remind her that we aren't leaving her alone.  I'm sure he'll visit as often as possible."

"Yeah," Harry said bitterly, "until Fudge passes another law banning visits to Azkaban."

"Be careful, Harry," Sirius said gravely.  "That jaded attitude won't get you anywhere.  Believe me, I know."

"I think Remus was right.  There's no way Fudge will let her go, not even if he has to write all kinds of awful laws to keep her there.  What good is hoping when what you hope for is impossible?"

"It's only impossible when you _stop _hoping!" Sirius said sharply.  "You give up on Dumbledore's plan and you give up on Celeste at the same time!  You let Fudge win before he's barely begun!  Dumbledore and Celeste are a greater wizard and witch than Fudge could ever aspire to be.  You need to have faith in them.  They have great faith in you."

"They do?" said Harry.

Sirius threw up his hands.  "Where were you when Dumbledore first let you in on the plans to resist Voldemort, or when Ardoc and Celeste told you who exactly they were?  You are practically living in Dumbledore's house!  You are being trained to fight!  Harry, don't you realize that you're being treated like an adult?"

"Yes," said Harry, "but I guess I thought that it was just because it was necessary."

Sirius chuckled.  "You're so modest.  You may look like James, but in some ways, you're very different.  I can't help but wonder what you'd be like if he had lived to raise you."

"What, was he a show-off or something?"

"No, I wouldn't say that," said Sirius, "but he certainly was _not modest."  He gave Harry a half-smile.  "Just stay positive, okay?  We're not beaten yet."_

"Okay," said Harry.  "It's just that everything looks so bad."

"True," said Sirius, "but don't forget that we've got Dumbledore, the only wizard Voldemort ever feared.  And if Voldemort is afraid of him, imagine how Fudge must feel."

Harry grinned.  "Terrified, I hope."

"It's no more than he deserves," said Sirius.  His face grew solemn again.  "Poor Remus," he murmured.  "He's head over heels for Celeste, you know."

"I kind of figured," said Harry.

"Well, she seems to like him quite a bit herself."

"Is that something else that will help her keep her sanity?" asked Harry.

"Love?  It's hard to say, but I think it will help," said Sirius.  "Some people would simply regret what they had lost, but the wise person will remember that love is not something that can be taken away.  You always have it with you, whether or not the people you care for are near.  And Remus would do well to remember that," he added darkly.  "Usually it's Remus who is trying to talk some sense into _me_.  Now that the shoe's on the other foot, I think I must be a real handful."  He sighed heavily.  "For his sake, I hope this has a happy ending."

**********

Harry tried to take Sirius' advice to heart, but it was hard to do so when there was nothing to do but sit around and brood.  He and Bellaton did what they had done when Sirius and Lupin had had their fight, and retreated to the Combat room to practice dueling.  Once Harry had worked himself into a good sweat, bathed, and packed up, evening had fallen.  Harry skipped supper in favor of a walk around the grounds with Hedwig on his arm.  There was something very soothing about stroking her soft, warm feathers.  Hedwig sat very still and let herself be pampered, sensing her master's need for comfort.

"Harry!" called Sirius from back at the house.

"What?"

"Dumbledore is here!"

Dusk had fallen, so Harry let Hedwig soar off into the night in search of food.  He hurried back inside and found everyone already seated and waiting for him.

"She is doing well, all things considered," Dumbledore was saying to Lupin.  "She is quite subdued, but she is in full possession of her sanity."

Lupin's shoulders drooped.  "Thank heaven," he murmured.  "The way she looked after Malfoy took her voice… I was afraid she would give up."  Harry blinked at hearing his exact thoughts being spoken aloud by someone else.

"It was a cruel blow, yes," said Dumbledore.  "But she is made from sterner stuff than you perhaps realize.  I gave her your message, and it seemed to cheer her a great deal."

Lupin smiled tentatively.

"Here," said the headmaster, holding out a large package.  "These are for you."

Lupin frowned and pulled back a layer of brown paper.  He pulled out a blue dress, neatly folded, and a smaller box.  He dipped his fingers into the box and pulled out a necklace with one blue stone dangling from the end.

"Her wand is under lockdown, but I did not feel they had a right to keep these," said Dumbledore.

Lupin looked up.  There was a look of determination on his face now.  "Thank you," he said.

"So what now?" said Sirius.

"I work on the Wizengamot," said Dumbledore.  "I warn you, the going may be slow.  The Minister will be throwing up roadblocks right and left, but be patient and let me work.  Now, about Ronald."

"Is he okay?" said Harry.

"Physically, he is much better," said Dumbledore.  "Healer Bigelow has been at the Burrow since last night.  According to him Ronald's body could attend classes with no problem, but he needs more time to recover mentally."

"So you've told him," said Bellaton.

"The rest of us had the benefit of separation between two shocks," said Dumbledore.  "Ronald got all the news in one punch, but he is exceeding everyone's expectations.  He is young and resilient."

"Does he want to learn?" asked Bellaton.

"It is too soon for that," said Dumbledore.  "Give him time.  He must come to realize – by himself – that this is something he cannot change.   When he accepts that he will live with it for the rest of his life, then he will be ready to learn."

"So who exactly knows that Ron is a Singer?" asked Sirius.

"All the Weasleys save Percy," said Dumbledore, "and they will not be telling him anytime soon."

"Everyone knows already?" said Bellaton.  "It's a bit sooner than I would have expected."

"Molly and Arthur left the decision up to Ronald," said Dumbledore.  "The Weasleys are a closely-knit clan, Ardoc.  Personally, I believe that he made the right choice.  But this business with Percy..."

"What's wrong with that boy?" said Sirius.  "He's turning his back on his family to gain favor with a man like _Fudge_?"

"None of us can know what is going on in Percy's mind," said Dumbledore.  "Until we can walk a mile in his shoes, we cannot judge him.  Still... he will have to make his choice someday: his family or Fudge, and I believe that he could go either way."

At that moment, Professor McGonagall and Hermione materialized in the middle of the room.  "Time to go, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, her voice all business.

Everyone rose from their chairs.  Dumbledore pulled his pocketwatch from his robes and glanced at the face.  "Indeed you are correct, Professor," he said.  "Ardoc and I should be going as well."

Harry collected his belongings and pulled on his cloak.  He shook hands with Lupin, and Sirius gave him a quick hug.  "Remember what I told you," his godfather said, giving him a very serious look.  "It's not over."

"Right," said Harry as Professor McGonagall shepherded him toward the fireplace.  Harry and Hermione each took a handful of Floo Powder from the bag she proffered.

"Go to your common room," said Professor McGonagall.  "The other students should be at dinner by now.  I expect you won't want to face them tonight, so I'll have something sent up for you."

Harry and Hermione murmured their thanks.  Hermione threw her powder into the fireplace, stepped in, and said "Gryffindor Tower!" in a clear voice.  As soon as she had gone, Harry stepped forward.

"Harry," said Sirius from behind.  Harry turned around.  "Watch your back," said his godfather.  There was a pleading look in his eyes.

Harry gave him what he hoped was a confident smile.  "Of course."  He threw his powder into the fireplace, and a minute later he was stepping out into the Gryffindor common room.  He and Hermione each deposited their belongings in their rooms and returned to a long sofa in front of the roaring fire.  Before long a plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of pumpkin juice appeared in front of them, but neither felt like eating or talking.  For a long time they simply sat in silence until Harry remembered that he had something to do.  "Bellaton figured out why Ron was attacked," he said abruptly.

Startled, Hermione turned to look at him.  "Why?" she breathed.

"He's a Singer," he said, and Hermione gasped.  Harry told her everything that he had been told that day, and Hermione absorbed it all with wide eyes.

"What happens now?" she said when he finished.

Harry shrugged.  "Ron gets better, comes back to school, and decides whether or not he wants to learn."

Hermione shook her head.  "I never saw this coming."

"Why would you?" said Harry.

"I don't know, I... I guess I thought I should have dreamed about it."

Harry smiled sadly.  "I'm kind of glad you didn't.  I get more sleep that way," he joked, but Hermione didn't smile back.  "Look, you probably wouldn't have known what it meant anyway."

"I haven't had any more dreams since the last one," she said.  "I don't have anything to tell Miss Flavisham.  Not that I _enjoyed _the dreams, but I can't learn anything if I don't have any at all."

"You'll have more," he replied darkly.  "I wouldn't wish for it them I were you.  Just enjoy regular sleep while you can get it."

"If I learn how to interpret my dreams, then maybe I can prevent these kinds of things from happening in the future," she said firmly.  "I have this terrible feeling that things will only get worse before they get better, and I don't want to go through anything like that again."

"Hermione, you could be the world's greatest Dreamer and things like that would still happen."

"Poor Professor Thornby," she said.  "It must be awful in Azkaban."

"It is," said Harry, staring into the fire.

Hermione gave him a funny look.

"Sirius told me."

"Oh."

Neither of them said much after that.  They parted ways and headed to their own rooms as the dinner hour drew to a close, not wanting to feel the curious stares of their classmates.  When his own roommates returned, they remained silent on the subject of the Gala save to ask how Ron was doing, and Harry was grateful for their discretion.  He had enough on his mind without having to dodge unwanted questions.  He tried to lose himself in _A History of Magical Conflict_, but it reminded him of his guardian and he wound up staring at the pages without really seeing them.  And though it seemed a trivial matter after all that had happened, he spent the rest of the night wondering who was going to take over in History of Magic.


	32. Fallen from Grace

**A/N: **Whew! I think I have sufficiently recovered from the trauma of the last two chapters. In this installment we have more discussion of the role of adults in the students' lives, and we finally get an answer to why Prof. Thornby was a Slytherin. A lot of people have been wondering about that. I'd been undecided on how to bring it out, and this is where I landed. I have a bunch of reviews to reply to (thank you all!), so let's get going.

Jedi Buttercup: From where I sit, it looks like the rest of Harry's fifth year is going to be pretty 'angsty'. Eh… I'm really not fond of the word 'angst' as I feel it is overused, but that's the way it's going to be. Harry and Dumbledore have to fight against a very belligerent Fudge until something gives way.

Huskerinexile: This particular story may or may not end happily, but I'm not planning to stop at fifth year, so it won't really be the end anyway. Of course the _very end will be happy. Otherwise, I'd never be able to write post-Hogwarts stories! So for everyone who is hoping I'll kill Harry off – forget about it. :-) Oh, and I was a Buckeye._

Penny: No, thank _you_! About Ron's reaction… he'll talk to Harry and Hermione, of course, but the moment of realization is something that would go in my "Back Stories" story. Read on for the explanation of Prof. Thornby's House…

procrastinator-99: I'm on your list of favorite authors! Thanks a bunch!

Danae: Ron's decision… probably next chapter. Fudge will definitely have to get his comeuppance, and we couldn't leave Malfoy to roam the world. You've got an interesting idea of how to get back at them both.

totallystellar: I'll stick with the Pear dust. Peach-flavored candy always makes me gag.

PhoenixTearsp322: Definitely don't reveal your ending – it'll deter people from reading! It's always a great delight to unveil a big surprise in a story. No, Harry can't feel what's happening to Professor Thornby. They can't sense each other's emotions, just their proximity, and those warning bells go off when one of them is in trouble.

captuniv: Wizengamot scene will be forthcoming! The indomitable McGonagall will be a pillar of strength. I love McGonagall.

Quill: Harry won't find any hidden talents in _this_ story… but as I say, it won't end here. Sorry I couldn't update sooner, but the chapter just wasn't ready.

oasis: I think I surprised a lot of people. Thanks for reviewing!

jezebel-jade: Thank you SO MUCH! I skip stories for exactly the same reasons. Reading that part of your review was like listening to myself talk. I'm sure there are some problems – I'll have to do some reworking eventually, but it helps when people point things out. I know the way things are supposed to be so I don't always notice when they're slightly different. I'll have to check out that timeline. Thanks for pointing it out, and welcome to the story!

Chapter 32: Fallen from Grace

The next morning the school was alive with gossip.  Students who had been at the Ministry Gala found that they had achieved instant popularity; no one seemed to tire of hearing the sensational story over and over, though it had been printed in the _Daily Prophet_ in grim detail.  On his way down to breakfast, Harry passed more than one knot of students listening eagerly to yet another retelling.

Harry and Hermione sat off by themselves at the Gryffindor table and said little, even to each other.  Hermione pulled out her notes from History of Magic and began to read them over while Harry numbly sipped a cup of breakfast tea.  After a while Harry realized that Hermione wasn't reading her notes; she was staring blankly at the table a few inches above the paper.  Down the table Harry could see Fred and George eating in an unusually subdued manner.  Ginny was sitting near them, gazing into her cereal but not eating.  She looked up and caught Harry's eye.  Harry gave her a tentative smile that she returned gratefully.

"I was wondering," Hermione said abruptly, "about Professor Thornby."

"I think everyone is wondering about her this morning," said Harry, turning his attention back to her.

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "I was wondering about her House.  Why would the Sorting Hat put her in Slytherin?  I've never met another one like her.  I mean, some of them are decent, but I wouldn't think a Slytherin would do what she's done for you.  I think she'd throw herself in front of a Killing Curse to keep you safe."

"Yeah, I've thought about that too," said Harry.  "Bellaton might know.  It's either him or Dumbledore, and I don't think Dumbledore has time for that sort of unimportant question right now."

"Well, we have Defense Against the Dark Arts last today," said Hermione.  "Maybe we could stay behind and ask."

Harry was about to answer, but Neville, Dean, Seamus, Parvati, and Lavender came walking up to them to ask about Ron.

"Sounds like he's doing better," Harry said neutrally.  "They've got Healers looking after him and everything."

"When's he coming back?" said Neville.

"It might be a week," said Hermione.

"Was it as bad as they're saying?" Dean asked quietly.

Harry and Hermione looked up at him.  "Yes," said Hermione.

"I can't believe they sent Professor Thornby to Azkaban," Lavender said mournfully.

"That law sounds like a pile of dung to me," Seamus said stoutly.  "I mean, come on!  She saved Ron's life!"

"Yeah," said Parvati.  "Everyone thinks she should be set free.  It's like arresting someone for having blue eyes."

"She did have blue eyes," Harry murmured.  Every time he thought of Professor Thornby all he could see were her eyes boring into his, trying to tell him something.  Try as he might, though, he couldn't guess what it was.

"Everyone thinks she's innocent?" Hermione said, her face lighting up with hope.

"Of course," said Dean.

"Well, except for some of the Slytherins," said Neville.  "Three guesses as to who I mean."

All seven of them turned their heads to look straight at Draco and his goons.  Malfoy blinked in surprise when he saw their scrutiny, but he quickly donned his best glare.

"Malfoy's father knew this was going to happen," Harry said softly.  "He knew Grayson was coming.  Somehow he found out what Professor Thornby could do, and he set a trap with this _law_."

"What are you saying?" Lavender gasped.  "Grayson's a Death Eater, everybody knows that!  They never caught him the first time!"

"Lucius Malfoy is and always has been his compatriot," Harry said darkly.  "He was there in the graveyard with the other Death Eaters."

"You've already got a reason to dislike him," Lavender observed uncertainly.

"It's what happened," said Harry.  "Voldemort called Mr. Malfoy by name, and he answered."

The others shivered.  "Harry –" Hermione warned, but he cut her off.

"I don't know what you think about all this," he said quietly, looking at Lavender.  "I'm not saying this to get back at Draco, if that's what you meant.  I'm telling you the truth.  His father is a Death Eater, and he _set this up_.  He's put himself next to Fudge, and Fudge is changing.  He hates Dumbledore, he's making secret laws, and he's putting our teachers in prison.  He wants control of Hogwarts, and once he's got it, Lucius Malfoy's got it, and once Malfoy's got it..."

"You-Know-Who's got it," Seamus said, very quietly.

"I don't care who knows what I think," Harry said, looking away from Lavender.  "It's not going to change anything.  Fudge has already called me a liar to my face."

Silent tears were streaming down Lavender's face now.  "I didn't want it to be true," she said in a quavering voice.

"Ignoring it won't make it go away, Lav," Parvati said gently.

"I know.  I d-do believe you, Harry," she managed.

Harry looked up in surprise.  "You do?  But... you always acted so indifferent about this business with Vol..."  He looked around and changed his mind.  "With You-Know-Who."

"My parents believed Rita Skeeter," Lavender sniffed.  "I did too, because of what _they _believed, but... they don't know you, Harry, and I do.  I don't think you'd lie about something like that."  She sniffed again.  "I've never disagreed with my parents before.  It's scary.  I thought they knew everything."  There was a lost look in her eyes.

"No one knows everything," said Seamus, but it was clear that her words had disturbed all of them.  Everyone except Harry had adopted Lavender's introspective look, and Harry knew that they were seeing their own parents in a new light.  A thought came unbidden to Harry's mind.  _Dumbledore doesn't know everything either._  Harry looked up at the staff table where the headmaster was having a quiet discussion with a solemn Professor McGonagall.  Suddenly, Harry understood how Lavender felt, because it really was a terrifying realization.  Dumbledore always seemed so infallible, but Seamus was right.

"Thanks, Lavender," said Harry.

She smiled nervously.  "Why do I feel like I just did something really big?"

"Because you did," said Hermione.

Lavender was still sniffling a bit.  Harry felt sorry for her.  He reached over and took his half-drunk cup of tea.  "Come on, Lavender," he said.  "Sit down and help me practice reading tea leaves, will you?  I'm definitely not taking Divination next year, but I don't want to break my streak of good marks."

She giggled.  "You _can't_ read tea leaves," she said.  "You haven't got any talent for Divination at all."

"I never said I did," said Harry.

"You'll just make stuff up."

"Then I've got to be convincing."

Lavender smiled indulgently.  "Oh, all right."  The others sat down at the table and Hermione went back to her book.

Harry didn't really care a fig about his Divination grade, but he continued the charade for Lavender's benefit.  He drank the last of the tea and turned the cup over on the saucer.

"Okay, then," said Lavender, leaning over the saucer to look.  "What do you see?"

"A great soggy lump of tea leaves," said Harry.

"See, this is why you keep having problems with Professor Trelawney," said Lavender.

Harry sighed.  "Honestly, I never understood how my breakfast tea could tell my future in the first place.  What does it know?"

"Well, strictly speaking, nothing," said Lavender.  "This isn't the right kind of tea, but that's not really the point.  Tea leaves, crystal balls, tarot cards, auras... they can give people hints and clues, but they don't clearly predict the future.  You need the gift of prophecy to be able to do that.  Seers can either See or they can't.  I don't think that's something that Professor Trelawney has made very clear."  She stopped speaking when she realized that all her friends were staring at her.  "Well, she hasn't," she said defensively.

"You just criticized _Professor Trelawney_!" Neville exclaimed.

Lavender blushed.  "Yes, well, don't tell her I said that.  She can be a little thin-skinned sometimes."

"This _is_ a big day for you," said Parvati.  Lavender smiled shyly.

Hermione glanced down at her watch.  "It's time to go."

It was a long day for Harry.  He managed to stay alert in Potions, but only because he knew what was riding on his marks in that class.  Still, his potion didn't turn out quite right, and neither did Hermione's.  Snape awarded them their marks – less than full, but not failing – in an expressionless voice, and Harry realized that the Potions Master was cutting them a tiny bit of slack.  As he left the class, Harry decided that Snape himself had seemed a bit distracted.  That was the way the entire day went.  Every teacher was less than animated, and some were definitely not paying their students full mind.  The only professor who was in full teaching mode was Dumbledore, who was taking over in History of Magic.  Everyone sat up a little straighter when he walked into the room.  Though the rest of the class was alert, Harry couldn't bring himself to pay attention to the lecture.

Defense Against the Dark Arts finally arrived.  Bellaton was extremely solemn and lectured the class on something, but Harry sat through it in an uninterested daze.  Every now and then he'd glance to his left and see the empty desk between himself and Hermione.  That blank space had been haunting his classes all day long.  Hogwarts just wasn't the same without Ron.

The bell rang, signifying the end of classes for the day.  The other students all filed quietly from the classroom, but Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance and lingered behind.  They sat at their places in silence for a few moments before Bellaton looked round and blinked.  "What can I do for the two of you?" he said.

"We wanted to ask you about Professor Thornby," said Harry.

"Oh.  Well, I don't think Dumbledore has been back to Azkaban since –"

"No, that's not what we meant," Hermione interrupted.  "We want to know why she's a Slytherin."

"I beg your pardon?" said Bellaton.

"She doesn't seem like she belongs in that House," Hermione continued.  "She's not like any Slytherin I've ever met."

Bellaton sighed and rubbed his temples.  "Come back to my office with me.  We'll be more comfortable there."

Harry and Hermione followed him down the corridors to the professors' offices.  Bellaton opened a door and ushered them inside.  Harry gazed around as Bellaton pulled up three chairs.  There were a few dark detectors in one corner, including a small foe-glass.  A tall bookshelf held dozens of leatherbound books and framed photographs.  There were potted plants all over, and Harry remembered that Bellaton's favorite room at Alverbrooke had been the solarium.

The most arresting sight in the room was a row of knives hanging on the wall behind Bellaton's desk.  Harry was reminded of the combat room back at Alverbrooke, but there had been a much wider array of weapons on those walls.  Bellaton's knives ranged from short to long enough to be a sword.  There were six on display, but it was plain that there had once been seven.  There was a large gap between the first and second knives, breaking the neat line.

"My father gave me these," said Bellaton when he saw Harry and Hermione staring.  "He believed in training with weapons as much as with one's wand.  'Always have a second line of defense', he used to say.  I learned knifework and fencing from an early age."

"Is this him?" said Hermione, picking up a photograph from the bookshelf.

Bellaton smiled down at the picture.  "Yes, that's him, and there's my mother, and that's my older brother and I."

Harry looked.  There was a tall, broad man with a small boy riding on his shoulders and a young man standing in front of him, trying to look grown-up.  A pretty woman stood next to them, holding her husband's arm.  The man had bright blonde hair, but the woman's was long and dark.  Both children had inherited her coloring.

"You never said anything about a brother," said Hermione.

Bellaton smiled sadly.  "He died many years ago – he and my father both.  Richard followed my father's profession of Auror, and they were both killed in the line of duty."

"Oh," Hermione said softly, looking embarrassed.  "I'm sorry."

"That's all right," said Bellaton.  "I've long since been reconciled to the loss.  My mother didn't survive my father long; she died of an illness that shouldn't have been fatal.  The Healers said that her grief had weakened her too much."  Bellaton smiled tenderly at the photograph once more and set it back on the shelf.

Harry glanced back at the display of knives on the wall.  Something clicked as he noted the empty space once again.  "That knife you gave me for Christmas – that was your father's," he said.  It wasn't a question.

Bellaton smiled back at him.  "I thought that perhaps you could use it someday, if you really do mean to become an Auror.  I don't need it to remember him by; my whole family lives on in here," he said, pointing at his heart.  "Besides, I would rather it saw use again in your service than gathered dust in here.  Now, let us sit and talk."

They sat.  Harry was feeling more than a little bit humbled.

Bellaton waved his wand and a teapot with three cups appeared.  "So you finally want to know why Celeste was a Slytherin," he said, pouring the tea.  "I'm surprised no one asked sooner."

"Well, until the other night, I thought she must have just been an oddity," said Hermione.  "But after what she did for Ron...  No Slytherin would do that.  It just doesn't make any sense."

Bellaton smiled dryly and handed Harry and Hermione each a cup.  "Well, I wouldn't rule out all Slytherins, but you're not far from the mark," he said.  "To understand why Celeste came to be in that House, you need to know about her background."  Bellaton settled comfortably into his chair and took a sip from his teacup.  "She comes from an old wizarding family.  It's not as old as Malfoy or Black, but the Thornbys have been around for a long time.  Yes, your godfather comes from a long line of purebloods," he said, seeing Harry's surprise.  "But that's a story for another day.

"All Thornbys are Slytherins.  They always have been.  Celeste's parents were in Slytherin, her cousins were in Slytherin, her grandparents, great-grandparents, everyone.  By all accounts they were decent people, well-liked and respected – until Voldemort came to power, that is."

Bellaton steepled his fingers against his lips.  "The Thornby family was ambitious.  All Slytherins are, but one can be ambitious for things other than power for power's sake, and this particular clan was into politics.  Celeste's mother and father both worked at the Ministry.  In fact, if you look far back enough into Ministry records, you'll find that more than one Thornby has been Minister of Magic.

"Celeste was an odd Thornby right from the start.  She was more interested in books and music than in political discussions, and politics were _ingrained in her family.  Still, her parents worked on her, as all parents do, and did their best to make her more like a typical Thornby.  The big test, of course, was the Sorting Hat.  Celeste she set a new record on her very first night at Hogwarts.  It took the Hat a full ten minutes to select her House.  I think that record still stands today."_

"How do you know all this?" said Harry.

"I am five years Celeste's senior.  We were at school together for two years, though we didn't know each other.  Years later when we had become friends, she related the story to me.  As I was saying, Celeste told me that the Sorting Hat considered putting her in all four Houses.  It was strongly leaning toward Hufflepuff, but she begged it to put her in Slytherin.  She didn't think she could stand the shame if the Hat made her a Hufflepuff.  Generations of Slytherin Thornbys looked down on that House as the leftovers, the ones that weren't good enough to make it into any of the other Houses.  It's a stigma that Hufflepuff doesn't deserve, but Slytherins hold to it.  So she begged and pleaded, and when the Hat realized that her mind was made up, it granted her wish.  Try and imagine how you would feel if your entire family had been in the same House for years upon years, but you were placed elsewhere.  If you can, you'll know how she felt."

Harry thought about it, remembering his own experience with the Sorting Hat and his conversation with Dumbledore about it.  The headmaster had said that it was a person's choices that defined them more than anything else.  _It doesn't sound like she made the right choice though, thought Harry._

"Celeste never really fit in with the rest of the Slytherins.  There were signs everywhere that said she wasn't really one of them.  First of all, her lengthy stay beneath the Sorting Hat worked against her.  Obviously it hadn't been clear to the Hat for some time where she should be, so she couldn't be a "true" Slytherin.  She was also friendly with students from outside her house, lacked the typical arrogant attitude, and wasn't nearly ambitious enough.  Most Slytherins dream of growing up to be rich, powerful, or famous.  Celeste wanted to be a historian."

"A _historian?" said Harry._

"She loved to study runes and read old books," said Bellaton.  "All those years of digging through forgotten knowledge have come in handy more than once.  There are some truly amazing spells that have been forgotten through lack of use.  If you can throw something at your enemy that he doesn't know how to deflect, you've got a powerful weapon in your arsenal."  He shook his head.  "Anyway, Celeste tried to go along with the family business.  It didn't work out.  She really should have let the Hat put her in something else, but then she would have had to face her family.  The only connection she really ever had to Slytherin was by blood.  I don't think there's much left of it in her anymore, not now that her family is dead."

"What happened to them?" Hermione asked quietly.

Bellaton sighed.  "It's a sad story," he said.  "As I said, they were decent people... but their ambition was their Achilles heel.

"When Voldemort first began to gain power and influence, a man named Bradford Tipple was the Minister of Magic.  He was getting on in years and though his retirement was drawing near, he seemed to be taking his time about it.  He didn't play favorites, so he had no clear successor.  I don't really want to get into a political discussion here.  Suffice it to say that the magical community votes for the Minister among several candidates, and whomever the old Minister endorses is usually one of them.  Since it didn't look like Tipple was going to endorse anyone at all, several high-ranking members of the Ministry were vying for position.  One was Cornelius Fudge, and another was Felix Thornby – Celeste's father.

"Some of Voldemort's earliest followers approached Felix and offered him their support. At the time it wasn't known that they were Death Eaters; that term had never even been heard of before.  But they were shady characters, one and all; Felix should have known better than to have dealings with them.  Lucius Malfoy, Rodolphus Lestrange, Walden Macnair... all of them were Slytherins.  Most of the Death Eaters were, though every House was represented in the end.

"Voldemort went after Slytherin House first.  He gathered the most eager and willing followers from it and then worked on the others.  To have the alliance of the Thornbys would have been desirable; as I said, they are a very old Slytherin family.  So these men came to Felix with silver tongues and honeyed words and he listened.  It had been centuries since a Thornby had last held the title of Minister, and the family saw its chance to change that.  Felix accepted their aid without question.  Dumbledore once said that he tried to dissuade Felix himself, but to no avail.  The man had his eyes on the prize and became blind to everything else.

"Eventually Voldemort began to move more aggressively and the world got its first glimpse of the Death Eaters.  Terror reigned supreme though the killings were very few at first.  Fear is a powerful weapon," said Bellaton, looking very seriously at Harry and Hermione.  "Voldemort used it once, and he'll use it again.  If people had banded together at the beginning, the slaughter that followed could have been avoided.  But that's not what happened.  Witches and wizards were concerned for their own safety and that of their families; no one wanted to stand up to the new threat, because no one _else_ was standing up.  Dumbledore eventually succeeded in rallying the people to his cause, but not before the damage had been done.

"Time passed and things got worse.  More and more people were dying, most of them victims of the Killing Curse, sometimes after being tortured with another Unforgivable.  Apparently Felix began to suspect his supporters of dark dealings, but by then he was in over his head.  He was trying to separate the Thornby family from them before he was killed; that much is known from letters he left behind.  What happened next is not so clear.  The Death Eaters probably threatened Felix to keep him from dropping out of the race, but he publicly announced his withdrawal.  Less than a week later he and his wife Veronica were found dead in their home, victims of the Killing Curse.  Celeste had only been seventeen for a few months.

"The whole affair left a terrible stain on the Thornbys' reputations even though they were dead.  Malfoy and Macnair were accused of being Death Eaters, and Rodolphus Lestrange actually went to Azkaban.  It was common knowledge that they had been dealing with Felix.  Not everyone believed that the Thornbys had simply been a pawn in Voldemort's game.  Some people even thought that the deaths were a result of a power struggle among the Death Eaters' ranks, and that Felix was one of them, though there was no evidence of that.  As for myself... I believe, as does Dumbledore, that Felix and Veronica chose to do the right thing in the end, though it cost them their lives.  They died with dignity instead of selling their souls."

Bellaton took another sip from his teacup.  "So now you know," he said.  "Celeste was in Slytherin, but not much Slytherin was in her."

"Does she still think of herself as a Slytherin?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know," said Bellaton.  "On the one hand it's part of her heritage, but on the other… her family was disgraced, and she exhibits few Slytherin characteristics anyway."

"Maybe people have forgotten about what happened to her parents," said Harry.  "I mean, no one said anything when Dumbledore hired her, did they?"

"There was a murmur," said Bellaton.  "It didn't last long.  Everyone forgot about it after the attack on Hogsmeade, but I wouldn't count on people forgetting now.  Fudge has got her right where he wants her, and he won't give her up without a fight.  He'll attack her character next, and I can guarantee you that the fiasco between Felix Thornby and Voldemort will come up.  Remember that Felix and Fudge were rivals for Minister of Magic; Fudge may harbor an old grudge."

"That's awful," said Hermione.

"Indeed," said Bellaton.  "In the past I'd have said that Fudge wouldn't let such a petty thing cloud his judgment, but now…  He is a changed man.  Quite changed.  Anyway – expect some mudslinging, but we've got character witnesses of our own."  He looked down at his watch.  "It's getting late.  I don't know about you, but I could do with some supper."

Harry and Hermione stood up, thanked Bellaton, and left his office.  They lost no time in discussing everything that they had just heard.

"Professor Bellaton left himself out," said Hermione.  "When Fudge goes after Professor Thornby, I'll bet he tries to discredit him as well.  Everyone knows they were friends, and Fudge is getting rid of all Dumbledore's supporters."

"But Dumbledore said he wouldn't let Bellaton be removed from the school," said Harry.

"I know he's supposed to have full control over Hogwarts, but that's not going to stop Fudge from trying," said Hermione.  "Oooh, I think this is going to get ugly."

They walked in dejected silence for a few moments before Hermione spoke up again.  "Have you ever noticed that a lot of Dumbledore's allies have tragic histories?" she said.

Harry frowned.  "Well, there's Sirius.  If anyone's tragic, he is."

"And Lupin," said Hermione.  "He's a werewolf, and he's spent a lot of time friendless in the world."

"And now we have Bellaton and Professor Thornby," said Harry.  "Their families are dead."

"Don't leave yourself out," said Hermione.  "Voldemort killed your parents personally.  You're the Boy Who Lived."

Harry blinked.  He'd never really put a label on his relationship with Dumbledore before other than headmaster and student, but he was definitely on Dumbledore's side.  Whether Dumbledore saw him as an 'ally' or not, it was nice to know that Hermione assigned him such a level of importance.

"What about you and Ron?" said Harry.  "You're with me, so you're allies too."

"Yes, but we're not tragic," said Hermione, but she immediately looked uncomfortable.  She didn't say it, but she and Harry were both thinking of the attack and Ron's newfound talent.

"Nothing's really happened to you that couldn't be fixed," said Harry.

"I sure hope it stays that way," said Hermione with a shiver.

"Yeah," said Harry.  "But if anything ever _did happen, at least you'd have the rest of us misfits to keep you company."_

Hermione gave him a lopsided grin.  "I guess that wouldn't be so bad, but nothing could replace my parents."  A distant look appeared on her face.

"I suppose I'll have to take what I can get," said Harry.

"Oh!" said Hermione, looking stricken.  "I didn't mean…"

"I know," said Harry.  "I wish I could've known them, but I guess there's one blessing in the fact that I didn't."

"What's that?"

"I didn't have to mourn them."

Hermione's face grew sad.  She reached over and gave his arm a quick squeeze.  Harry smiled a bit to show her that he wasn't feeling too down, and she seemed mollified.  He didn't tell her that he would have given anything in the world to have grown up with his parents, if only for a little while, even if it had meant that he'd have to suffer the pain of sudden separation.  He didn't say it, but then again, Hermione probably knew it anyway.


	33. Ron's Decision

**A/N: Well, I didn't get many reviews at all for the last chapter.  Hmm.  That's becoming fairly unusual, so I'm wondering if the chapter alerts didn't go out.  I know at least one person got it, but I did get an error on the webpage after trying to post.  Every time that happens I cringe, because it means that _something_ goes wrong, usually with alerts.  And you can't post twice… so here we are.  Anyway, I hope you all got a chance to read the last chapter whether you reviewed or not!**

athenakitty: You seem to want Fudge to die (you mentioned it twice).  I guess you'll have to keep on reading to find out…

totallystellar: See, _you_ got an author alert!  It's too bad you don't like Ron, because this chapter is mostly about him.  _I like Ron._

chuckleseviltroll312: A lot of people seem unsure of what to think about Ron's talent.  And about Platform 9 ¾… I didn't want to go through it all, so I got them back to school by other means.  I never did specify how Fred, George, and Ginny got back.  I may have to fix that.

captuniv: Bring it on?  It's coming on!  Next chapter!

Chapter 33: Ron's Decision

Ron was absent from classes for an entire week.  They were difficult days for Harry, who found that a good deal of the fun had gone from Hogwarts without his friend.  He knew the feeling from second year when Hermione had been petrified for a few months.  Things just weren't the same with one of them gone; they had always been a threesome.

At breakfast on Friday, a letter finally arrived from Ron.  Harry and Hermione both perked up instantly when Errol, the Weasley family's ancient owl, collapsed into a pitcher of pumpkin juice with a splash.  Hermione had to fish the bird out to keep him from drowning.  She was so thrilled about the letter that she barely seemed to notice that her white shirt was now splattered with orange.  "Oh, poor Errol!" she cooed, stroking his feathers.  "So brave of you, making such a long trip!"

Harry took the wet letter and hurriedly opened it.

_Dear Harry and Hermione,_

_Good news!  Healer Bigelow says I'm back to normal, so I'm coming back to school on Saturday.  Actually I can't wait to get there – Mum has been driving me crazy.  Sorry I haven't written sooner.  I've had rather a lot on my mind, but I guess you know that.  Well, I'm going to see you guys in a day or two anyway, so I'll stop here.  Oh yeah, and I hope that Errol made it alive.  I guess if you're reading the letter then it means that he did.  Will someone go up to the Owlery and say hi to Pig for me?  He gets depressed if he's left alone too long._

_Ron_

"Pig gets _depressed_?" said Harry.

"So for all Ron's bravado, he really does like Pig," said Hermione.  "That's sweet."

A younger owl fluttered down next to Hermione's plate.  It held out a small scroll of paper that Hermione unrolled and read eagerly.  "It's from Professor McGonagall," she said.  "She says that Ron will be in the entrance hall around lunchtime if we want to wait."

Harry did want to wait, and when noon rolled around on Saturday, he and Hermione were both sitting at the bottom of a stone staircase in the entrance hall.  Harry sat with his back against the wall and _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5_ on his knees.  Hermione was working on an essay that was already quite long; the parchment was curling around her feet.  Fred, George, and Ginny were also waiting, though none of them were doing any homework.

There was a quiet pop, and Ron and Mr. Weasley appeared.  "Ron!" Ginny squealed, leaping to her feet.  She rushed over and wrapped Ron up in a crushing hug.

Ron's face turned bright red.  "Er, hi, Ginny," he said.

"Ickle Ronniekins!" the twins said, rumpling their brother's hair and giving him quick, mannish hugs in their turn.  Harry and Hermione hung back to let the siblings reunite, though Hermione looked as if she very much wanted to hug Ron herself.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, Ronald," said Dumbledore's voice.  Harry looked and saw the headmaster standing in the hallway.

"Thank you, sir," said Ron.

"Hello, Arthur," said Dumbledore.  "I suppose you won't be staying long."

"No, thank you, Albus," said Mr. Weasley.  "I need to be getting back to the Ministry."  He gave his son a fond look.  "Take care of yourself, son.  Ginny, Harry, Hermione, keep him out of trouble, will you?"

"Daaad," said Ron.

Mr. Weasley laughed.  "I promised your mother I'd say it."

"I noticed you left _us out," said George, feigning disappointment._

"Trouble is your middle name," said Mr. Weasley.  "You wouldn't listen anyway."  He looked up at Dumbledore.  "If it wouldn't be too much bother, Albus, I think I will need a fireplace."

"Not at all," said Dumbledore.  "You may use mine."  Mr. Weasley accepted, and with a last farewell to his children, he left with the headmaster.

"Boy, have I got a lot to tell you guys," said Ron when they had gone.

"Harry and Hermione already know the big news," said Fred just as Ron's stomach rumbled loudly enough for everyone to hear.

"Had lunch yet?" George teased.

"No."  Ron looked toward the Great Hall.  The sound of students laughing and talking drifted down the corridor.  He didn't look too thrilled about joining the crowd.

"Why don't we just take a walk outside?" said Hermione.  "I'm sure Fred and George would be happy to nick you some food later on."

"Good idea," Ron said eagerly, and he pulled his cloak back over his shoulders.

They walked in silence for a few minutes.  Ron seemed to be collecting his thoughts.  Harry was eager to hear what he had to say, but he was willing to wait.  After a whole week, a few minutes more wasn't much to stand.

"Hullo there!" called Hagrid.  Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys looked round and saw the gamekeeper coming toward them.

"Hello, Hagrid," said Ron, grinning.

"Welcome back, Ron, welcome back," said the half-giant.  "Would yeh be feelin' up ter a visit?"

"Oh.  Um, we were just… talking," Ron stammered.

"Who says yeh've got ter stand outside in the cold?  Come on, yeh can use my cabin."

Ron looked very uncomfortable.  "Um, thanks, but I think I'd rather not."

"Oh, yeh don' have ter worry about me," said Hagrid.  "S'all righ, I already know."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged nervous glances.  "Know what?" said Harry.

Hagrid leaned down to look Harry in the eye.  "About Professor Thornby.  She was yer guardian."

The students gaped at him.  "Why didn't you _tell us that you knew?" exclaimed Hermione._

"Wasn't allowed," said Hagrid.  "Dumbledore's orders.  Besides, Harry, yeh don' think she was the only person lookin' out for yeh?"

"You're our friend," said Ron.  "Why wouldn't Dumbledore let you tell us?"

Hagrid raised one busy eyebrow.  "Now, I'm not goin' ter let yeh fool me into sayin' more than I ought.  I think Dumbledore's plannin' on tellin' yeh some things soon, 'specially now that Professor Thornby's in Azkaban."  He shuddered beneath his moleskin overcoat.  "Terrible shame.  Just terrible.  I hate ter think of her in that awful place.  So… what do yeh say?  I've got some hot apple cider an' some nice cookies.  Chocolate chip."

"Oh, let's!" said Ginny.  Harry smiled to himself; she had obviously never tried Hagrid's cooking before.

"Well… okay," said Ron.

The cabin wasn't far off.  When they entered Fang barked joyfully and jumped all over everyone.  "Down, Fang!" Hagrid ordered.  The dog obeyed, but he practically quivered with excitement where he sat.  His huge tail wagged from side to side, thwacking loudly against a table leg.

The students settled themselves on the huge, hairy sofa while Hagrid ladled cider out of a pot above the fire.  "Here," he said, passing mugs around.  "An' try the cookies, too.  I think yeh'll like 'em."

Everyone save Ginny exchanged dubious glances.  She took a cookie from the plate Hagrid offered and opened her mouth to take a bite.  Harry winced, expecting her to break at least one tooth, but he wasn't expecting what she said next.

"Oh, these are wonderful!" said Ginny around a mouthful of cookie.  The others looked at each other in surprise.

"Here, pass that round," said Fred.  Harry took a cookie when it came his way and bit in.  Sure enough, the dough was soft and the taste of melted chocolate hit his tongue.

"Wow, Hagrid!" said Hermione.  "These are really good!"

"_Really good," said Ron, wolfing down the rest of his.  "Pass that plate back."_

Hagrid beamed down at them.  "I've been practicin'," he said proudly.  "Had a little help from the house-elves."

Ron looked from the plate of warm cookies to the pot of cider on the fire.  "Is there any chance you did all this for me?" he said.

Hagrid smiled beneath his wiry mane of black hair.  "Yeah.  I thought yeh might not want ter go on up to yer room straight off," said the half-giant.  "Besides, yeh haven't been down ter visit in a while.  Thought maybe I could tempt yeh."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all donned guilty faces.  "We're really sorry," said Harry.

Hagrid chuckled.  "Don' worry about it.  S'like I told yeh before – yeh got ter do well on yer O.W.L.s, and I'm sure yeh've all got loads on yer minds."

"So if you knew about what Professor Thornby was doing here, then you must have known what she was," said Ron.  Hagrid nodded.  Ron drew a deep breath.  "So you know about me, too?"

"That I do, lad," Hagrid said gently.

"Have you made a decision?" asked George.

Ron stared down into his mug.  "I have," he said.  "My answer is no."

Harry and Hermione blinked in surprise while Ron's siblings simply looked uncertain.  "You don't want to learn?" said Harry.

"I don't necessarily mean no forever, I just mean not now," said Ron uncomfortably.  "There's lots of reasons.  First of all, it's illegal."

"Ron," Hermione said reproachfully, but he cut her off.

"It is," he said.  "I know it's a stupid law, but it's still the law.  Second, I don't know how I'd get to practice.  I guess Bellaton would teach me here at school, but I'd have to make sure that no one else knew what I was doing.  That sounds way too complicated to me.  And third… I just really don't want to right now."

"That's allowed, yeh know," said Hagrid.

"I'm not ready," Ron said, growing more agitated.  "Every morning I wake up and remember what I am, and it scares me.  I'm still having a hard time believing it."

"Don' let it define who yeh are," said Hagrid.  "Jus' think of it as somethin' yeh can do.  It's a talent, not yer entire bein'."

"But Bellaton and Professor Thornby always –"

"I know how _they define themselves, but yer not ready for that," said Hagrid.  "Give it time.  Maybe someday yeh'll let Singin' into yer life, an' maybe it'll be big enough to change the way yeh think about yerself.  Maybe it won't.  Yeh'll just have ter wait an' see."_

Ron frowned at his cider.  "I knew this was coming.  I just wish I could've been something else."

"Singers were once among the most respected of wizards," said Ginny.

"Yeah, but they're not now, are they?" said Ron.  "What's the good of having a talent you can't use for fear you'll be arrested?  How does that help anybody?"

"If Singers were respected once, they can be respected again," said Hagrid.  "Look at yer professors.  Two straighter arrows yeh couldn't find.  Yes, people are afraid o' what they can do, but they've also seen Professor Thornby stand up against a known Death Eater!  Read the _Daily Prophet – some people are callin' for Fudge's head!  Yer professors'll change people's minds about Singers, mark my words."_

"Two people trying to change centuries of prejudice?" Ron said doubtfully.

"Aye, but they're special people," said Hagrid.  "Give 'em a chance.  They might surprise yeh."

"So... what do you guys think?" Harry said to the twins and Ginny.

"Dad, Bill, and Charlie seem excited," said Fred.  "Mum and George and I… we're not so sure."

"Neither am I," said Ginny.  "And now Mum and Dad are wondering if anyone else in the family is a Singer."

"What?" said Harry.

"Things like this tend to run in families," said Hermione.

"I thought this was just… fate, or something," said Harry.  "The prophecy, you know."

"A prophecy won't preclude anyone else from havin' the talent," said Hagrid.  "An' since there's so many of yeh Weasleys, the odds are a little better that there could be more'n one."

"Mum and Dad said that they wouldn't worry too much about it just yet," said Ron.  "They're still getting used to me."

"Do you remember much of what happened?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Yeah," said Ron.  "It hurt.  A lot."  He looked away, and it was plain that he wasn't going to say any more.  Fred, George, and Ginny looked pained.

"At least yer safe," said Hagrid.  "It was no small price to pay, but yer safe."

"What are they doing to get her out?" Ron asked sadly.

"Dumbledore went back ter Azkaban today," said Hagrid.  "Said he was bringin' our professor some readin' material.  It helps ter have somethin' ter do… keeps yer mind off where yeh are.  I don' know when the Wizengamot'll hear her case.  I don' know much about legal stuff, but I think a lot has ter happen before yeh get to a full trial.  Yeh'd have ter ask Dumbledore."  He rubbed his hands together a few times and picked up his own mug of cider.  "Enough about all that," he said.  "Hand me a cookie an' tell me how yer classes are goin'."

An hour later, Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys left Hagrid's cabin and headed back to the castle.  Ron was still shying away from the idea of returning to Gryffindor Tower, but the others assured him that he wouldn't be bothered too much.  "Everyone's curious, but Dumbledore stood up at dinner last night and forbade the whole school from asking you questions," said Harry.

"I wish he could forbid the _Daily Prophet_ from asking questions," Ron muttered.  "Every day I was at home, reporters showed up wanting to interview me and my parents.  Mum and Dad said no every time, but they just kept coming.  After a while Dad wanted to run them off with a few hexes, but Mum wouldn't let him.  She said it would only make things worse for Professor Thornby."

They climbed stairs until they reached the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.  The Fat Lady greeted them all and asked for the password.  "Well, here goes," said Ron.  "Malfoy Is A Slimy Git!"  The portrait swung open.

Ron had barely taken three steps before he was mobbed by Gryffindors from every year coming up to say hello.  No one asked him any questions, though, and Ron eventually lost his wary demeanor.  "Right.  Thanks," he said, trying to separate himself from all the students.  "Got to get back to work.  Lots to catch up on, you know."

Five minutes later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on their way to the library.  "There now.  That wasn't so bad, was it?" said Hermione, sounding more than a little bit bossy.

"Not really," said Ron, but Harry thought his friend looked more than a little bit pleased at the welcome.

"Well, you did miss a lot this week," said Hermione.  "Two new potions, an essay for Defense Against the Dark Arts, a ton of reading for Astronomy, charm work –"

"Hermione, do you think there's any way you could make me feel a little bit more overwhelmed?" said Ron.  "Because I don't think I have enough on my plate as it is."

"The work's not going anywhere," Hermione said defensively.  "The O.W.L.s will be here before you know it."

"No kidding," said Ron, rolling his eyes.  "I'll bet you've got a countdown going."  Hermione turned red, and Ron gaped.  "You _do?  I was kidding!"_

"How many days have we got?" said Harry with a grin.

"Eighty-four," said Hermione.

"Could you give that to us in hours?" snickered Harry.

"Figure it out yourself," Hermione said airily.  "Eighty-four times twenty-four.  Do it in your head."

"Sounds like plenty of time to me," said Ron.  "You know, I don't really feel like doing work right now.  What do you say to heading back to the common room for a game of Wizard Chess?"

"Ron!" Hermione cried.

Ron laughed.  "Only joking.  I knew you'd react like that."

"You big oaf," she retorted.

"Admit it, you're glad I'm back," Ron teased.

"_I'll admit it," said Harry.  "School wasn't any fun without you around."_

"Come on, Hermione," said Ron.  "If it weren't for me, you'd probably never leave the library."

"Oh, all right," Hermione grumped.  "I'm very glad to see you, you know that.  But you're really insufferable sometimes!"

"All the time, I hope," chuckled Ron.

Harry could see the entrance to the hallway up ahead.  He stopped walking, and his friends stopped with him.  "There's something we should tell you about," said Harry.  "I didn't know if we should say it in front of Ginny and the twins or not."

"Oh, yes," said Hermione.  "Bellaton told us about Professor Thornby's family."

"What about it?" said Ron.  Harry and Hermione told him what they had learned.  By the time they finished, Ron was shaking his head.  "Blimey," he said.  "And she never said anything."

"Would you want to go around advertising something like that?" said Harry.  "To be fair, she did tell me that her family was killed by Voldemort's followers.  She didn't lie, she just left some things out.  I guess I'm not surprised, now that I know."

"Dumbledore sure has a lot of friends who've been through the wringer," said Ron.

"That's exactly what I said!" Hermione exclaimed, smiling over at him.

"Cool," said Ron.  "Maybe some of your brains are starting to rub off on me."

"They're your own brains," said Hermione.  "You just never knew you had them."

Ron grinned.  "Come on, let's get to it.  I've got enough Charms alone to keep me busy for a week."

**********

Eighty-four days did sound like a lot of time, but Harry soon realized that it really wasn't much.  The professors piled work upon the fifth years like layers of winter clothing even as the days grew warmer and crocuses poked their way out of the earth.  Harry and his friends spent many a cool spring day in the library with their classmates while the other students frolicked outside.

Harry found that he had no trouble concentrating on his work.  He had both his friends to keep him on track and he was determined to get into the Auror corps, but it was his guardian's imprisonment that really spurred him on.  Weeks passed and no word came from Dumbledore.  Harry knew that the headmaster was doing whatever could be done, but he was growing frustrated and angry.  The _Daily Prophet had not forgotten about Professor Thornby, and it was Harry's only source of news on the subject.  Apparently Dumbledore was having a hard time getting her case on the docket.  The Wizengamot had suddenly been flooded with backlogged cases and unresolved matters, and while they slogged through Professor Thornby waited in Azkaban.  It was all Fudge's doing, Harry was sure; the Minister was throwing up roadblocks to keep her case from being heard.  Harry wasn't the only one who was outraged; the editorial pages were filled with angry letters from the Weasleys' friends calling for a hearing immediately.  Yet the weeks went by and the Ministry ignored the outcry.  Harry wondered why Fudge was allowing such a thing to dent his reputation.  He thought that the Minister would have attempted some kind of damage control by now, but he seemed hell bent on dragging the process out for as long as possible._

The other professors were rallying behind Professor Thornby's cause as well.  As Dumbledore's efforts continued to be thwarted, they could increasingly be heard muttering about what they'd like to do with Fudge given five minutes alone with him.  Professor Sprout told Ron that she'd sent a potted purple crocus with Dumbledore on his last visit to Azkaban.  Professor McGonagall stalked the halls in a foul temper, often conferring with Dumbledore or Bellaton.  Even Professor Trelawney jumped into the fray, telling her classes that the planets' alignment was a portent of good fortune for the missing professor.

On one beautiful April morning Harry, Ron, and Hermione received the _Daily Prophet as usual and divided it up to look for news.  Harry, who had the front page, saw something that made his eyebrows rise, but Hermione spoke up before he could say anything._

"Look, Ron!  There's a letter in here from your dad!"

"What?" said Ron.

"Here in the letters to the editor," Hermione said excitedly, pointing at the parchment.  They all leaned over to read.

_Dear Sir,_

_As I am sure you are aware, I have a unique interest in the outcome of Professor Thornby's case.  I have been following the recent proceedings at the Wizengamot very carefully.  After observing the court's inaction, I felt it was my duty to write and join the growing numbers of witches and wizards who are expressing their outrage at the gross miscarriage of justice being perpetrated by our very own government._

_It has been six weeks since my son was saved from certain death by Celeste Thornby, who was arrested for doing so on the very same night.  The circumstances of her arrest are deplorable.  Our government used the premise of a brand new law that was kept secret from the populace to ensnare her.  And what has she done, other than defend my son against the attack of a confirmed Death Eater?  She exercised a talent that inspires fear in the hearts of many, but she used it to do good rather than harm.  After the way she was rewarded for her efforts, I cannot blame her for keeping her ability a secret._

_I, like so many others, am dumbfounded by the Ministry's refusal to bring her case to the forefront.  To imprison someone for an innate ability is absurd.  Good and evil lie in the choices that men make, not in their innate abilities.  We have jailed a Singer because she has an advantage over other wizards.  By the same token, all witches and wizards should be jailed because we have an advantage over Muggles.  Why do we imprison her and let known Death Eaters walk free?  Where is the manhunt for John Grayson?  You would think that it was Miss Thornby who had cursed my son._

_In writing this letter, I am fully aware that I will soon lose my job at the Ministry, but it doesn't concern me much.  I am embarrassed to work for a government that seeks to subjugate its citizens.  I call upon the Wizengamot to immediately hear Professor Thornby's case and restore dignity to the Ministry of Magic._

_Sincerely,_

_Arthur Weasley_

Ron whistled.  "He's already been fired, I'm sure."

"Wow," said Hermione.  "It's even more powerful coming from your own family, Ron.  This letter could really make a difference."

Harry didn't say anything because he had nothing to say.  He was incredibly grateful for Mr. Weasley's statement of support, especially knowing what it might have cost him.  Then again, if Mr. Weasley was as disgusted with the Ministry as he said he was, the pill might not have been quite so bitter.

Ginny came walking up followed by the twins.  "I see you've read the editorial," she said.

"Yeah," said Ron.

"Well, Dad was right – he's been fired," said Ginny.  She held up a small parchment.  "We got a note from Mum."

"Are they okay?" Hermione said worriedly.

"They'll be fine," Fred said stoutly.  "Mum's behind Dad on this."

"I'm so proud to be a Weasley right now," said George.  "He did the right thing."

"I'm proud of him too, but…"  Ron dropped his voice to a whisper.  "That's one less ally Dumbledore's got inside the Ministry."

"Mum says Dumbledore gave it his blessing," said Ginny.  "Dad was willing to stay if he had to, but he really wanted to write the letter."

"Not that I want to change the subject or anything, but I saw something on the front page and breakfast is almost over," said Harry.  "Mr. Malfoy is claiming that he's found a rare artifact that can control Singers."

"What?" everyone said in unison.

"It's called a Constrictor," said Harry, scanning through the article.  "Apparently the wizard who controls it decides when the wearer will speak."

"The _wearer?" said Fred._

Harry scanned the article further and recoiled in disgust.  "Ugh, it's a collar!"

"They wouldn't," said Ginny, looking horrified.

"They would," George said darkly.

"I guess they can't deny her the right to speak in her own defense, so they'll use this to keep her from Singing," said Harry.

"That's so degrading!" said Hermione.

"Good morning," said a voice behind them.  Everyone turned to see Professor McGonagall standing there with her usual firm expression.

"Good morning, Professor," they chorused.

"Potter, Weasley, I need to speak to you for a moment," she said.  Harry and Ron looked at the others, but the only response was a few shrugged shoulders.  They followed their Head of House out of the Great Hall and into the Transfiguration classroom where she shut the door behind her.

"Tomorrow morning you will dress in your neatest, cleanest school robes and shoes and accompany me to the Ministry of Magic," said Professor McGonagall.  "You will be excused from your classes."

Harry and Ron stared at her in confusion.  "Why?" said Ron.

"The headmaster has decided that it is time for action.  Tomorrow we will bring Professor Thornby before the Wizengamot.  This won't be a trial," she said, "but it will be a beginning."

"Why am I going?" said Harry.

"You were nearly the victim yourself, so the matter concerns you as well," said Professor McGonagall.  "More than that, though – you are a symbol of opposition to Minister Fudge."

"A symbol?" said Harry in disbelief.

"You heard me," said Professor McGonagall.  "The headmaster cannot be with us tomorrow, and we want to remind the Wizengamot of who they're opposing.  You will be representing him."

Harry laughed nervously.  "You're joking.  They're not opposing _me, they're opposing Dumbledore."_

"You underestimate your importance," Professor McGonagall said gravely.  "No matter what lies have been printed about you in the past, you are still the Boy Who Lived.  Your public allegiance with Dumbledore is a great asset to him.  Don't you realize that?  You are a person of great worth and renown, Potter!"

"But –"

"Seven thirty sharp," said Professor McGonagall.  "And for heaven's sake, make sure you both fix your hair!  Now, off to class with you."

"Well, aren't you special?" Ron jested as they left the Transfiguration classroom.

Harry was suddenly very nervous.  He was relieved that Professor Thornby's case was finally going to move forward, but to be Dumbledore's stand-in…  It was an honor, of course, but he didn't feel smart or old enough to be put in this position.  It sounded like he was going to be stuck there whether he wanted it or not, so now all he could do was hope that he didn't let anyone down.


	34. Before the Wizengamot

**A/N: **At last this long chapter is ready for posting. This was a tricky one to write, even though the sequence of events was all planned out. I had almost nothing to fall back on in the way of canon writing save the description of the room in which the Wizengamot sits. There are so many characters and so much description going on that the chapter went through several rewrites until I had tied up all the loose ends. PLEASE NOTE that I have changed a section of Chapter 30 (Be Still My Heart). A reader pointed out that the whole thing with Professor Thornby's voice was too reminiscent of The Little Mermaid, and ever since then I've been extremely dissatisfied with it. Anyway, the scene itself is still very much the same, except now the voice has no visual manifestation. FYI – we are getting close to the end. Of course, it is April in the story now, so you've probably guessed that. If only it were April in the real world...

procrastinator: People seem mixed on Ron's choice. I didn't think it was realistic for him to jump right in when there were lots of reasons not to. But take heart - there's still the future to think of.

PhoenixTearsp322: My Fudge _has_ sunk pretty low. I always thought he could be a formidable roadblock for Dumbledore if he wanted to be. About the "pop": I was wondering if someone would mention this. I said it was a _quiet_ pop. Whenever people Apparate you hear a loud crack. I can't think of any instance where J.K. Rowling has described whether or not the use of portkeys generates a noise, so I thought maybe it would sound like a muted Apparition. But you are quite right; you can't Apparate or Disapparate on Hogwarts grounds. Hermione would be proud of you!

athenakitty: I think Ron will warm up to the idea of being a Singer, but he's not ready yet.

Huskerinexile: This really ends up being McGonagall vs. Fudge. Harry mostly stands around and watches. He also gets to intimidate people just by being there, even though he doesn't believe that he can. Remember that Fudge is influencing a lot of the members of the Wizengamot, so McGonagall has to find a way to get around that.

Jemma Blackwell: Fudge is pretty awful. Yes, I _will_ deal with him one way or another before the story ends. :-)

weirdsister: Thanks for the "bloody terrific" description! Yes, down with Whiny Harry! Hmm... Harry/Ginny fluff... I know I've mentioned before that I always figured they would end up together (although the end of Phoenix puts that in doubt), but Harry's not really getting into romance this year. Sixth year is just around the corner, though!

Jedi Buttercup: I'm not reading that much fanfiction right now because it's so hard to find any that's not depressing! I think that Harry and Ron really need each other, so that friendship is going to keep going. You're not the only person who liked Hermione's comment about Ron's brains. Thanks! About what Hagrid said about Harry learning some things soon... don't get too excited. I'll just come out now and say that I've worked the Order into the end of the story. I think everyone always figured that Dumbledore had his own group of allies, and this is the form that it officially took. So that's what Hagrid (as a member) was referring to.

Kaye: Sorry this one took such a long time. But on the upside, it's a lot better than I would have been if I'd just slapped it down on paper. I hope it's worth the wait!

chuckleseviltroll312: I love Hagrid. I realized partway through the story that I was neglecting him, and it just took a while before I could get him back into the action.

Chapter 34: Before the Wizengamot

At exactly seven thirty the next morning, Harry and Ron were ready and waiting by the portrait of the Fat Lady.  Per Professor McGonagall's instructions, they had made themselves as neat as possible.  Somehow Harry had managed to make his hair lie a little bit flatter than usual, and Hermione had even performed a useful little charm that polished up their shoes.  

They hadn't been waiting long before Professor McGonagall came striding up.  She was wearing deep blue robes instead of her usual green, and the long, white feathers in her matching hat were fresh and straight.  "Come with me," she said brusquely, ignoring the curious looks of the students who were leaving the portrait hole.  She led Harry and Ron to the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's offices.

"Pepper Imp," said Professor McGonagall, and the gargoyle granted them entrance.

Dumbledore was seated behind his desk when they walked in.  Healer Bigelow from St. Mungo's was standing next to him, gesturing vigorously, but he stopped when he saw the newcomers.  Harry's first thought was that the headmaster didn't look well.  He seemed tired and pale, and the twinkle had gone out of his eyes.

"Good morning," said Dumbledore.  "I wanted to give you a few instructions before you left.  The first thing you should know is that Professor Thornby is not currently scheduled to appear before the Wizengamot today."

"Then why are we going?" Ron blurted.

"Patience, Ronald," said Dumbledore.  "Professor McGonagall is going to insist that her case be heard at once."  Ron opened his mouth again, but Dumbledore held up a hand.  "We believe we have a way to back the court into a corner.  You will hear all shortly.  You should also know that there is a remote possibility that either of you may be questioned by the court.  If this does occur, they may ask you about some things that I would rather not reveal, but I am not going to ask you to lie to them."

Ron's eyes went wide.  Harry knew he had to be thinking of what it would be like if the whole world suddenly knew why he had been attacked.  "I've got no problem lying about this," he said.  Ron nodded emphatically.

Dumbledore shook his head sadly.  "As a rule, it is best to tell the truth, but I fear that in this case it may be necessary to conceal it.  More harm than good will come from honesty.  Now, if you are not being questioned, you should both be silent.  You are likely to hear some things that you don't like – things that are unfair or cruel, but an outburst will not help.  Matters are firmly in Professor McGonagall's capable hands, and she will have help."

"From who?" said Ron.

Professor McGonagall shook her head.  "Ever inquisitive.  You will meet him in a few minutes, Weasley!"

"He is a barrister and a trusted friend," said Dumbledore.  "I will leave the rest of that introduction to you, Minerva.  Time is growing short."

"Indeed," said Professor McGonagall, glancing out one of the windows.

Dumbledore picked up a length of red ribbon that was lying atop his desk.  It was tied in a loop, and from it hung a piece of shining gold worked into a wavy-rayed sunburst.  Red, blue, and green enamel decorated its surface.  "This has already been charmed," said the headmaster.  "All you need do now is activate it."

"The disguises, Albus," said Professor McGonagall.

"Oh, yes," said Dumbledore.  He pointed his wand at Harry.  "_Avertia_!"  He did the same to Ron and Professor McGonagall in turn.

Professor McGonagall held up the medallion by the red ribbon and waved her wand.  "_Portus_!"  The medallion swayed and glowed blue.

"Godspeed, Minerva," Dumbledore said gravely.

Professor McGonagall smiled fiercely at him.  "Thank you, Albus."  She held up her free hand and turned to Harry and Ron.  "On three," she said.  "One... two... three."

They touched the portkey together and were transported to a busy street in downtown London.  There were Muggles everywhere, but none of them seemed to notice the three magical folk standing in their midst.  In fact, Muggles who were walking straight at them would suddenly veer out of the way when they got close.  Judging by their faces, they never even knew what they had done.

"What was that charm?" said Harry.

"Muggle repellant," said Ron.  "Muggles can't sense that you're there, but they go out of their way to avoid you."

"Well stated," said Professor McGonagall, sounding a bit surprised.  "Five points, Weasley."  Ron grinned from ear to ear.  "We'd best be off.  This way," she said, taking off at a brisk walk.  Harry and Ron trotted along behind her.

"Why are we in London?" said Harry.  "Is the Ministry close?"

"There are several entrances to the Ministry of Magic," said Professor McGonagall.  "One is in Diagon Alley and two are here in Muggle London.  The Diagon Alley entrance is very popular, so using it was out of the question."

"Why?" said Ron.

"Because we don't want the world to know that we're coming," said Professor McGonagall.  "If we walked through Diagon Alley, word would precede us and Fudge would be waiting.  That would never do; I am going to make him come to us."  Her eyes narrowed and she smiled a tiny smile.  Harry thought she looked almost eager.

Professor McGonagall suddenly turned and held out the portkey to Harry.  "Take this and keep it in your pocket," she said.

"What is that, anyway?" said Ron.

"Take a closer look," said Professor McGonagall.  Harry took the medallion and turned it about.  Thin gold script was inlaid into the enamel.  _Order of Merlin, First Class._

"Wow," said Ron.  "Does Dumbledore always use stuff like this for portkeys?"

"The headmaster thought it might give Potter courage.  Don't look so green," Professor McGonagall said kindly, giving Harry a shrewd look.  "You are not expected to have the wisdom of a man many times your age, but only to stand in his place.  When people see you, they will think of him."

"Please, what's wrong with him?" said Harry.  "Is he sick?"

Professor McGonagall suddenly looked very somber.  "He is not sick with a virus," she said.  "He has been visiting Azkaban often to keep Professor Thornby's spirits up, and the dementors are taking their toll on him."

"Then shouldn't he stop going?" said Ron.

"Albus Dumbledore may be old and wise, but he's also quite stubborn," Professor McGonagall said sourly.  "Fitzwilliam finally put his foot down when it came to this day.  Celeste will be accompanied by dementors when she is brought in, and we can't have the headmaster collapsing in front of the Wizengamot."

"Whoa!" Ron exclaimed suddenly, grabbing Harry's arm and pulling him to a stop.  "Isn't that your uncle?"

Professor McGonagall stopped walking and turned around.  "What are you talking about, Weasley?"

Harry looked at where Ron was pointing.  "It is him!" he said.  "It's kind of early for him to be out.  I didn't think he ever got to work before half past eight."

"What does your uncle do, Potter?" said Professor McGonagall.

"He sells drills," said Harry.  "For Grunnings."

"I suppose that might explain it," said Professor McGonagall.  "That building he's coming out of is the Magistrates' Court."

"Court?" said Ron.  "Now that _is_ a weird coincidence."

"I don't think he has anything to do with legal stuff," said Harry with a frown.  "He just sells drills."

"Perhaps his company is in a legal wrangle," said Professor McGonagall.  "I understand that they often are.  Come – we need to hurry."

They walked a bit further until they were standing in front of something that even Harry recognized – the houses of Parliament.  Harry opened his mouth to ask what they were doing there, but Professor McGonagall stopped him.  "Just watch," she said.  "_Vide credeque_!"

The building began to change before their eyes.  It looked as if a second structure was appearing in the middle of the first, tall and white with fluted columns in the front.  The left and right wings of Parliament were still visible on either side of the new building, but there was a dark fog that surrounded the edges of the Ministry.  Muggles walking toward it would vanish into the fog.  Harry didn't understand how two buildings could physically occupy the same space at the same time.  Knowing that it was "magic" didn't help him comprehend it any better.

"Don't think about it too long, Potter," said Professor McGonagall.  "You'll give yourself a headache."  She started forward and Harry and Ron followed.  As they approached the fog it faded away, but the Muggles around them faded and vanished as well.  They climbed the stone steps and walked past the tall columns to several sets of heavy brass doors.  "_Alohomora_," said Professor McGonagall, and the doors swung open.

Harry, Ron, and Professor McGonagall stepped inside into a rotunda that stretched up and up for at least twenty stories.  Wound about the inside of the dome were white walkways with such spidery supports that they looked as if they would collapse under the weight of one footfall, but witches and wizards were traversing them with no concern whatsoever.  There were doorways at each landing from which people were coming and going.  Nearer to the ground the walls were hung with enormous portraits, some of past Ministers of Magic, some of scenes from magical history.  Beneath the center of the dome itself stood two white marble statues, each fifteen feet tall.  They were of an old witch and wizard who stood facing each other with their wands outstretched.  Their faces were weathered and venerable, but their eyes were cold and blank.

A man in black robes and a powdered wig came walking up to them.  "Good morning, Minerva," he said, bowing slightly.  He had a dour voice and solemn, gray eyes.

"Good morning, Calvin," said Professor McGonagall.  She turned to Harry and Ron.  "Potter, Weasley, this is Calvin Featherstone.  He is the barrister who will be accompanying us to court."

Featherstone shook both their hands.  "The Wizengamot is convening as we speak," he said dolefully.  "We should hurry."  He turned and walked left toward a series of stone archways in the far wall.  There were queues of witches and wizards waiting to go through some of the arches, but there were no people waiting in front of others.  It was to one of the little-used archways that Featherstone led them.  Harry couldn't see through to the other side; the air was full of the same dark fog that surrounded the building outside.  Featherstone walked through and the air crackled blue around him.  "Calvin Featherstone," said a soft voice.

"You next, Weasley," said Professor McGonagall.

Ron walked forward and the air crackled again.  "Ronald Weasley," whispered the voice.

Harry and Professor McGonagall followed and found themselves in a long stone hallway.  Flaming torches hung in brackets on the walls.  There were doors all down the corridor, each made of heavy, iron-strapped wood.

"I suppose Dumbledore gave you instructions?" said Featherstone as they walked down the hallway.

"Yes," said Harry and Ron together.

"Good," said Featherstone.  "Let me remind you now not to speak unless the Wizengamot, Professor McGonagall, or myself address you.  After I am through, I doubt that Fudge's faction will dare to open their mouths, so I don't think they will be able to grill you today.  No doubt they will wonder what you are doing here, Mr. Potter, as you were not the victim.  My advice is to just let them wonder and worry."

Harry shook his head.  He still didn't believe that he would be such an influence on anyone, but there was nothing he could do save go along with it.

They reached a winding stone staircase at the end of the hall.  They followed it down until it stopped at a door; there was nowhere else to go.  Featherstone pushed it open.

Harry instantly recognized the room from what he had seen in Dumbledore's pensieve.  It was circular with stone steps lining the walls halfway around, like an amphitheater.  On the floor sat a long, raised bench; several dozen witches and wizards were sitting behind it.  The chained chair faced the bench, but it was empty now.  Several other witches and wizards in Featherstone's garb of black robe and powdered wig were milling around the floor.

Everyone stopped talking when Featherstone, Professor McGonagall, Harry, and Ron entered.  Featherstone whispered something in Professor McGonagall's ear.  She nodded and strode forward to stand by the chair.  "I, Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, do hereby request that Professor Celeste Thornby be permitted to enter a plea immediately."

The witches and wizards on the bench immediately began murmuring among themselves.  One of the white-wigged barristers took off running through a side door.  _Off to get Fudge,_ thought Harry.  A witch with a sharp nose and chin sitting near the front of the Wizengamot stood up.  "Professor McGonagall, you seem unused to rules of decorum when addressing –" 

"This is a public courtroom," Professor McGonagall interrupted coldly.

The pointy-faced witch sneered.  "The Wizengamot does not allow outsiders to waltz in and dictate its schedule!"

"I _demand_ that you hear her plea this instant," said Professor McGonagall as if the other woman had not spoken.  "I have legal precedent to support me.  I cite the case of Sackworth versus the Magical Peoples of Britain."  She held out her right hand, and Featherstone moved to stand beside her.

Featherstone unscrolled the parchment he was carrying.  "In the case of Sackworth versus the Magical Peoples of Britain, the Wizengamot decreed that no person accused of a crime of the first order shall be interred for a period of more than thirty days without entering a plea."

"Celeste Thornby has been held for six weeks," said Professor McGonagall.

"Johnson versus the Ministry of Magic was delayed for three months by special decree," said the pointy-faced witch.

"Due to the more urgent need to interrogate and try twelve captured followers of Grindelwald," said Featherstone.

"The Wizengamot is conducting important business today," said the witch.

"The Wizengamot is trying two petty thieves and a warlock suspected of practicing the Dark Arts," said Featherstone.  "And... oh, yes... hearing arguments on whether dungbombs should be a restricted import," he finished dryly.

The witch fired something back at him, and Featherstone had yet another answer.  They went back and forth for a bit until the side door banged open again and Fudge, Mr. Malfoy, and Percy hurried into the room.  Fudge looked absolutely livid.  Unless it was Uncle Vernon, Harry had never seen a human being achieve the Minister's shade of purple.  Professor McGonagall and Featherstone did not even glance in Fudge's direction.

At Fudge's arrival the argumentative witch smiled triumphantly, but Featherstone had another arrow in his quiver.  "Section ten point five three of the Rules of Order states that the Minister of Magic shall not in any way attempt to hamper, delay, or halt the pursuit of justice for the accused."  Fudge, Mr. Malfoy, and the witch frowned.  Featherstone held up a folded paper.  "I have here a letter from Cornelius Fudge to one Madeleine Jenkins, instructing her to keep Thornby versus the Magical Peoples of Britain from coming before the court at all costs."

Fudge's eyes went wide.  The witch's face turned so red that Harry knew she must be Madeleine Jenkins.  "How dare you!" she sputtered.  "If you have gone through my office, I swear –"

"You really should burn incriminating documents instead of merely tossing them in the dustbin," Featherstone said smoothly.  Madeleine Jenkins gaped like a fish.  "Shall I read the letter for the court?"

"That won't be necessary," the witch said quickly.  She glanced at an older, graying witch who was sitting front and center on the bench.  Harry recognized her from the Gala; it was Amelia Bones.

"If you have withdrawn your block on the case, as I assume you have, then I will not pursue this matter," said Madam Bones.  A small smile was playing about her lips.  Harry thought she looked very pleased indeed.

A middle-aged wizard seated in the front stood up.  "All those in favor of allowing the case to move forward, say aye."

"Aye," said a good third of the Wizengamot, including Madam Bones.

Madeleine Jenkins glanced at Fudge, who was trying to nod vigorously and subtly at the same time.  "Aye," she said petulantly.  Once she had spoken, another third of the witches and wizards quickly said "Aye".  Many of them looked in Harry's direction as they spoke.  The final third reluctantly concurred, each person voicing their agreement as one instead of as a group.

"This is well," said Madam Bones.  "It is not wise to ignore the court's previous rulings without a law to back you up."  The witches and wizards who had waited until the last to agree glared at her back.

Harry and Ron glanced briefly at one another.  The worried look on Ron's face reflected what Harry was feeling in his heart.  If the Wizengamot was this divided, how would justice ever be done?

Madam Bones looked down at Professor McGonagall.  "You have won the point," she said, and there was a real smile on her face now.  She leaned over to speak to a young man sitting beside her who was wearing a set of black and white robes.  The man nodded and quickly left the room.

Professor McGonagall graciously inclined her head, and she and Featherstone moved off to the right of the chair.  Featherstone beckoned Harry and Ron to come forward, and they stood off to Professor McGonagall's right side.  

Harry assumed that they were waiting for Professor Thornby to be brought in.  He and Ron tried to stand as still as the two adults, but it was harder than it looked.  Harry settled for letting his eyes wander around the room.  Madam Bones was conferring with the old, balding wizard sitting on her left.  The other members of the Wizengamot were murmuring among themselves.  Harry was surprised to see that most of them looked either at Professor McGonagall or at him.  Some smiled gravely, some looked uncertain, and others seemed angry.  Harry couldn't quite believe it, but nearly everyone who didn't seem glad to see him flinched away when he met their eyes.  Maybe there was something to what Dumbledore and McGonagall had said after all.

On the other side of the room, Fudge and Mr. Malfoy were arguing heatedly while Percy looked on.  For a moment, Harry's and Percy's gazes locked.  Harry was surprised at how blankly Percy regarded him, almost as if he were a stranger that Percy had never met before.

A brass bell above one of the side doors clanged loudly, and all talking ceased.  The young man in black and white came through the door and announced, "Celeste Thornby of Hogwarts."

The old wizard next to Madam Bones stood up.  "Let the accused come forward," he intoned.

Two dementors entered with Professor Thornby between them.  She walked to the chained chair, sat down, and rested her hands upon the arms.  The chains twitched, but did not rise to bind her.

Several members of the Wizengamot raised their eyebrows, but for what reason, Harry didn't know.  Fudge stepped forward and addressed them.  "This woman is accused of a crime of the first order," he said.  "I respectfully submit that she should be bound."

The old wizard nodded.  "Agreed."  He looked to the young man in black and white.  "Decker, if you would –"

But Fudge had already raised his wand and pointed at the chair.  "_Evincio_!"  In the blink of an eye the chains wrapped themselves around Professor Thornby's chest and arms, slithering like snakes, binding her to the chair.  It was very quick, and the links jerked her backwards so that she was tightly constrained against the chair back.  Harry and Ron winced at the rough treatment.

The old wizard frowned as he sat down, and Madam Bones' eyes threw sparks.  "Minister Fudge, I shall direct the handling of the prisoner from now on," she said.  Fudge bowed his head slightly and stepped back.  Harry couldn't help glaring at the Minister, and apparently Ron couldn't help it either.

Harry wasn't sure what he expected Professor Thornby to look like after six weeks in Azkaban, but this wasn't it.  Her hair was washed and brushed, though it hung loosely about her shoulders.  Her robes were unadorned, ill fitting, and gray, but they were clean as well.  At first she stared straight ahead at nothing, but after a few seconds she blinked and looked over at Harry, Ron, and Professor McGonagall.  Recognition flitted across her pale face and her mouth curved into a tiny smile as she gazed at each one of them in turn, her eyes coming to rest upon Harry last of all.

"If it pleases the Wizengamot, I request that Professor Thornby's voice be returned to her so that she may assert her innocence," said Professor McGonagall.

"The Ministry of Magic objects to said request," said Fudge.  "The voice was legally confiscated according to Decree number one thousand, one hundred and twenty-three."

"A decree written and ratified in secret," scoffed Professor McGonagall.  "This abuse of power can be struck down by the Wizengamot."

"It was designed to protect the magical people of Britain from a threat against which they cannot defend themselves –"

"It was a thinly veiled effort to leash any person that _you_ cannot otherwise control," Professor McGonagall said icily.  Her face had gone very hard.  Harry knew that look all too well.  Fudge was glaring at her from across the room.  Clearly he had not expected her to stand up to him.  Personally, Harry thought that anyone who underestimated the deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts was a fool.

Fudge smoothed his expression again.  "Singers inspire the same fear that people associate with vampires and werewolves," he said blithely.  "Imprisoning them is a preemptive strike against a future Singers' War.  It is my administration's belief that the talent should be culled from the population for the good of all."

Harry's mouth fell open.  He could scarcely believe what he was hearing.  Where did Fudge get the nerve?  Next to him, he could see Ron staring goggle-eyed at the Wizengamot.  Professor McGonagall drew herself up to her full height, her eyes flashing with indignation.  Fudge, it seemed, was about to feel the full force of her wrath.

"Do not insult my intelligence," she said in a ringing tone.   "Do you really expect anyone to support this proposed genocide?  I am no simpleton.  The timing of this law was no accident.  You did not suddenly develop this concern for the welfare of your fellow citizens out of the blue, the very day before Professor Thornby revealed herself in order to save Ronald Weasley's life!"  All eyes turned to Ron for a moment, who swallowed hard at the sudden scrutiny.

Fudge made a sound like an angry bull.  "I resent what you are implying, madam –"

"I imply nothing.  I am saying it outright!  Your tactics disgust me!"

Fudge's faction in the Wizengamot began shouting angrily.  Fudge opened his mouth to retort, but Madam Bones held up a hand.  "That will be enough," she said evenly.  "The Wizengamot will not be ruling on the decrees involving Singers today.  That being said, I am going to return the accused's voice to her for a brief time only so that she may enter her plea."  Fudge's supporters grumbled, but no one challenged her.

"In that case, I propose a safeguard," Fudge said smoothly.

Lucius Malfoy stepped forward.  "We cannot trust the prisoner not to try and escape once her voice is restored," he said.  "A single note could render us all helpless.  Therefore, the Minister suggests the use of this."  He raised his arm to show a stiff brass circle clutched in one fist.  The metal was worked into two sinuous, out-of-phase waves.  Harry took one look at the eager sneer on Mr. Malfoy's face and stuck his hand into his pocket.  He closed his fist around the medallion and concentrated on the feel of the sunrays sticking into his skin.

"We strongly object to the use of such an object," said Featherstone.  "The degradation Professor Thornby would experience is extreme, and the precaution is unnecessary."

"Is this claim true?" said a witch from the bench.  "Could she simply open her mouth and overpower us all with one cry?"

"Judging from what I have read about Singers, this is an exaggeration," said a wizard near the back.

"Hogwarts School is asserting her benevolent nature, but who can say what darkness lurks in her heart?" said another wizard.  "Azkaban may have amplified previous ill intentions."

The members of the Wizengamot went on this way for a minute or two before the old wizard on Madam Bones' left interrupted.  "I wish to hear how the accused feels about this," he said, and the assembly grew quiet.

Mr. Malfoy approached Professor Thornby in the chair.  He held out the collar.  "Show your good faith," he said.  "If you harbor no ill will toward us, you won't object."

"A child could see through your sophomoric arguments, Lucius," said Professor McGonagall.  "This is no mere trinket – it is meant to subjugate and humiliate!"

"What say you?" insisted Mr. Malfoy.

Professor Thornby pressed herself against the back of the chair and shook her head vehemently.  She stared at the Constrictor as if it were a live viper.

"Give it to me," said Madam Bones.

Lucius Malfoy blinked in surprise.  "I beg your pardon?"

Madam Bones stretched out her hand and raised one eyebrow.  "Now, Lucius."

"This is my personal possession!" Mr. Malfoy said angrily.

"And you have no authority in this courtroom," said Madam Bones.  She beckoned with her fingers.

Mr. Malfoy's lip curled, but he handed over the Constrictor.  "Thank you," Madam Bones said dryly.  She handed it to Decker.  "Destroy it."

The dissenting members of the Wizengamot began muttering angrily.  "Just a minute!" shouted Mr. Malfoy, but Madam Bones steamrolled right over him.

"You were seen buying this piece of filth in Knockturn Alley from a merchant who should know better than to let his face see the light of day!" she barked, rising from her seat.  "Mere association with this man is grounds to have your entire manor searched!"

Lucius Malfoy turned pale.  "I can assure you, madam, that I had no idea I was dealing with any person of such ill repute –"

"Then you shall accept, as punishment for your ignorance, the destruction of your property," Madam Bones said coldly.  "You should know that I find this purchase despicable, no matter who you thought was selling it."  Several members of the Wizengamot were staring at her as if they had never seen her before.  All of Fudge's supporters were silent.

Mr. Malfoy's face was twisted with fury and disbelief, but he had no choice but to acquiesce.  Professor Thornby sighed with relief.  Harry and Ron smirked at each other.  Professor McGonagall stood ramrod straight with a grim, satisfied smile on her face.  

"The Wizengamot will stipulate that there is no way to know what Professor Thornby's intentions are," said Madam Bones.  "That being said, precautions will be taken to ensure that no escape is attempted."  She crooked her fingers and the two dementors glided forward again to stand on either side of the chair.  Professor Thornby shuddered and closed her eyes.  They were terribly close by, and Harry's scar throbbed dully.  He resisted the urge to rub his forehead and gripped the medallion a little tighter.

"Give me the trap," said Madam Bones, and Mr. Malfoy reluctantly produced it.  Madam Bones flipped open the lid and sounds drifted forth.  They were the same snippets of song and speech that Harry had heard when the voice had first been taken.

"_Restoras__ vocis_!" said Madam Bones, pointing her wand at Professor Thornby.  Harry heard the voice drift forward from the bench toward the chair, and a moment later his guardian's eyes widened.  A slow smile crept across her face.

"Celeste Thornby," said the old wizard, "you have been brought before the Wizengamot to answer the charges of espionage, conspiracy, and endangerment of underage wizards that have been brought against you by the Ministry of Magic."  Harry frowned.  The charges made absolutely no sense.  "You are now called to assert your guilt or innocence.  To the charge of espionage, how do you plead?"

"Not guilty," said Professor Thornby with a rapturous look on her face.

"To the charge of conspiracy with dark wizards and creatures, how do you plead?"

"Not guilty."

"To the charge of endangerment of underage wizards, how do you plead?"

"Not guilty."  She made a noise that sounded like the beginning of a laugh.  Harry didn't understand how anyone could feel like laughing with two dementors nearby, but she looked ready to do it.

"Let the record show that the accused has answered not guilty on all counts," finished the old wizard.

"So be it," said Madam Bones.  She pointed her wand at Professor Thornby again.

Professor Thornby's joyous smile vanished.  "Don't," she pleaded.  Professor McGonagall's expression grew sad as she watched.

"I must, child," said Madam Bones.  "_Intertias__ vocis_!"

A moment later the voice was securely stowed in the box again.  Professor Thornby looked utterly crushed.

"Celeste Thornby, you are hereby returned to the custody of the dementors until you are tried before the Wizengamot," said the old wizard.

One of the dementors stretched out a cold gray hand and touched Professor Thornby's arm.  The chains that bound her fell away with loud clanks.  She stood and allowed herself to be guided out of the room.  She never looked back at Harry or any of his companions; the lost look in her eyes told him that she was miles away.

Professor McGonagall drew a deep breath.  "I would like to thank the Wizengamot for righting this wrong," she said quietly.  "When will she stand trial?"

Madam Bones looked down at Professor McGonagall with obvious sympathy.  "I assure you that after this grievous error, the Wizengamot will do its best to expedite the process.  However, we will not abandon our previous commitments.  Per the Rules of Order, the date shall be set within the month and will not be more than sixty days from today.  I will send word to Albus Dumbledore as soon as it is done."

Professor McGonagall inclined her head graciously.  "Madam Bones," she said.  "Minister."  And with that, she turned to leave.  Harry, Ron, and Featherstone moved to follow.  Harry could feel the weight of dozens of considering eyes on his back as he left.  He spared one last glance at Fudge and his entourage before passing out of the room, and was struck once again by how dispassionately Percy looked back at him.  Harry could only suppose that Percy really had forsaken his family in favor of power.  He felt awful for Ron, who was casting hurt glances at his brother.

The hallway outside felt warm after the cold and damp of the chamber.  The sound of the heavy door banging shut echoed down the stone hallway.  Professor McGonagall leaned one shoulder against the wall and rubbed at her eyes as if massaging a headache.  "You both behaved very well," she said to Harry and Ron.  "Ten points each to Gryffindor."

"Fudge is horrible," spat Ron.  "I really wanted to slug him."

"So did I, frankly," said Professor McGonagall.  "But we neither of us did, and that's what counts.  This, however, is not a good place to vent your frustrations about the Minister of Magic."  She turned to Featherstone.  "Thank you, Calvin.  We couldn't have done this without you."

"Anything for Albus Dumbledore," Featherstone said gravely.  "Tell him that I am working on the matter of the decrees themselves.  If the Wizengamot strikes them down, there will be no legal basis for holding your professor."  He pulled a scroll of parchment from his voluminous sleeve.  "Kingsley asked me to give you this."

Professor McGonagall took the scroll.  "I will pass it on," she said.  With that, she and Featherstone both turned and walked up the spiral staircase.  Harry and Ron followed, and when they passed through the foggy archway and back into the rotunda, Featherstone left without another word.

"Friendly bloke, isn't he?" said Ron.

"Calvin is serious to a fault, but he has a brilliant legal mind," said Professor McGonagall.

Harry frowned.  Something was different from when they had first walked into the Ministry of Magic.  After a moment's thought he realized that it was very quiet save for the whispers that echoed around the cavernous room.  Witches and wizards were standing still, watching the three of them.  Harry looked up at the spidery walkways and saw scores of people gazing down.

Professor McGonagall smiled serenely.  "Walk on either side of me," she said quietly.  "Keep pace; you'll look more important than if you walk behind."  She walked across the marble floor with her head held high, looking for all the world as if she owned the whole building.  Harry and Ron walked beside her, trying to mimic her arrogant stride.  They strode out of the heavy brass doors side by side.  Professor McGonagall casually waved her wand without looking back, and the doors slammed home with a deafening crash.  "The medallion please, Potter," said Professor McGonagall.  A moment later it was recharmed, and the three of them were winging back to Hogwarts. 

**A/N: **_Vide credeque: _See and believe


	35. Victory and Doubt

**A/N: **This is not an especially exciting chapter, but sometimes the characters just need to talk about what's going on.  All the talking just worked its way into a chapter-length conversation!  Things will be moving forward in the next one.

athenakitty: Actually, Dumbledore _didn't_ tell Harry and Ron to lie – he said that he couldn't ask them to do that, and that they should do as their consciences dictated.

chuckleseviltroll312: Heh… Hermione and Draco can't be in every chapter.  Draco briefly rears his bigoted head in this chapter, though, and Hermione is back too.  I hope the court stuff was okay.  I spent FOREVER trying to make it realistic.

ootp-rules: Nice to see you again!  I've had a few suggestions on the Latin phrase.  I could have studied it in high school, but I went for Spanish instead (much more practical, as it is not a dead language and is the second most spoken tongue in the U.S.).  I can't conjugate Latin verbs at all.  Would you mind telling me exactly what "vide et credere" _does_ mean?  I wanted "see and believe" as opposed to the infinitive "see to believe", which is what your suggestion is.  Thanks for the help!

Danae: Thanks again for reviewing.  I love my regulars!  I guess you'll just have to keep reading to find out what happens in the end… not many chapters left to go.

Jemma Blackwell: I definitely think that Professor McGonagall rocks.

Wolfia: Nice to see you again, too!  As I asked ootp-rules: what exactly did my phrase mean (since I relied on the web to tell me I can't be certain), and what does "vide et credeque" mean?  It looks like French to me (I don't know if the "que" shows up in Latin or not).  I'd love to know.

totallystellar: Yeah, I didn't mind so much when Harry was rebellious in Phoenix, as that's perfectly normal for fifteen-year-olds, but when he was whiny I couldn't stand it, even though that's normal too.  :-)  Yeah, I know I'm harping on the subject.  I'll stop.

PhoenixTearsp322: You're really sweet.  Thanks for lifting me up!  And yeah, McGonagall certainly rocks.  She's got a forcible presence.

Chapter 35: Victory and Doubt

Harry opened his eyes and found himself standing in Dumbledore's office once again with Ron and Professor McGonagall.  His head was spinning with questions, and the trip by portkey had only made it worse.

Healer Bigelow had gone, but Dumbledore was seated behind his desk.  "Aren't you supposed to be resting?" Professor McGonagall said crossly when she saw him.

"I did try," said Dumbledore.  He donned a penitent expression.  "I found myself unable to do so after just having slept all night.  But since I am here, perhaps you will deign to tell me what happened."

Professor McGonagall threw up her hands.  "Fine!  Work yourself to death!  Just don't say I didn't warn you."

Dumbledore smiled gently.  "I've too much to do to kick the bucket just yet," he said.  "You need have no fear of that."

"You know what I mean, Albus," Professor McGonagall said tartly.

"I do," said Dumbledore, "but I will not stop fretting until you tell me exactly what happened today.  I give you my word that I will attempt to sleep once you have done so."

"You are insufferable," said Professor McGonagall, but she was smiling now.

"So I've been told," said Dumbledore.  "But since you're not insisting that I retire this instant, I can only assume that you carried the day."

"We did," said Professor McGonagall proudly.  "Cornelius never knew what hit him.  Calvin Featherstone certainly knows what he's about."

"And how did our two young emissaries fare?" said the headmaster.

"They did very well," said Professor McGonagall.

"We didn't even have to say anything," said Harry.

"Tell me all that happened," said Dumbledore.  "Start from the beginning and leave nothing out."

Professor McGonagall obliged.  Dumbledore chuckled a bit when she described the battle of legal precedent between Featherstone and Madeleine Jenkins.

"I don't really understand what happened there," said Ron.  "The moment she backed down, everyone else followed her lead."

"There are three factions in the Wizengamot," said Dumbledore.  "There are those who support the Minister, those whom he is blackmailing, and those who are still 'free agents', if you will.  Most of the last happen to agree with my way of thinking.  Madeleine Jenkins is Cornelius' primary voice on the court.  Once she gave way the members he is controlling were free to vote, and his supporters had to do as she did however much they disliked it."

"They looked at Harry and Professor McGonagall a lot," said Ron.

"Then Harry's mission was a success," said Dumbledore.  "Since I could not be there, it was his job to intimidate Cornelius' supporters and give courage to those he has threatened.  Of course it would have been best if we could have _both _been there."  He gave Harry a shrewd look as if he were trying to see how Harry felt about all this.  Harry remained silent and didn't quite meet the headmaster's eyes.  Part of him was very glad that he'd been of use, but at the same time, he resented the fact that no one had _asked _him to do it.

Professor McGonagall continued with her narrative.  Dumbledore seemed pleased when she described Professor Thornby's appearance and behavior.  When she mentioned the chained chair, he chuckled softly.  "Wonderful," he said.

"What's so wonderful about it?" said Harry.  "I think Fudge actually hurt her when he made the chair tie her up."

"That is not what I meant," said Dumbledore.  "It was petty of Cornelius to force the chair to act so violently, but that is just the point – he had to _force_ it to chain her.  If a person is brought straight from Azkaban and placed in that seat, the chains nearly always rise to bind them of their own accord.  Prisoners come to the chair feeling guilty and the chains react.  If a person's conscience is very clear, however, the chains will lie still."

"Well, why isn't that enough to prove her innocence?" said Ron.

"Because the reaction of the chains does not reflect upon the occupant's guilt or innocence," said Dumbledore.  "It _only_ reflects their conscience.  All men do things in their lifetimes that they ought not to have done; no one can sit in the chair without the chains at least twitching.  The guilty can be so assured of themselves that they will not be bound.  Only one of the chains wrapped itself around Bellatrix Lestrange; the others had to be commanded."

"To most people, Professor Thornby already looks innocent," said Professor McGonagall.  "She has only ever been seen to use her talents for good.  The charges against her are trumped-up nonsense, and the chair showed that.  So did her appearance; she's trying not to let herself sink into despair.  The Wizengamot will remember."

"What of the Constrictor?" said Dumbledore.

"Amelia ordered it destroyed," said Professor McGonagall.  "After what she said to Lucius, no one dared oppose her."

"That is good news," said Dumbledore.  "Unfortunately, that was not the only Constrictor that still exists in the world."

"Well, how many are there?" asked Ron.

"Dozens, I imagine," said Dumbledore.  "I know of the exact location of two others.  What you must understand is that the collars were developed long ago during the Singers' War.  Ordinary witches and wizards despaired of the destruction that the Singers had caused and sought a way to control them.  Many collars were made, and though hundreds of years have passed, many yet survive."

"How do they work?" said Harry.

Dumbledore waved the question off.  "I am certain that Miss Granger has already dug up everything there is to know about Constrictors," he said.  "By this time she probably knows more about them than I do."

Professor McGonagall concluded the retelling with the reactions of the people in the rotunda as they left.  "It is just as I had hoped," said Dumbledore.  "We made waves today."

"I thought you didn't want to be in open conflict with the Ministry," said Harry.

"Not then, but now it is time for action," said Dumbledore.  "We have fired our first salvo.  Now we can only wait to see how Cornelius will react."

"The appearance of the Constrictor did force our hand a bit," said Professor McGonagall.

"It did," Dumbledore admitted.  "I was not about to let anyone put a collar on Professor Thornby, least of all Cornelius Fudge."  He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands.  "We struck a mighty blow today, but he could still sabotage everything."

"He is arrogant beyond all comprehension," said Professor McGonagall disgustedly.  "He was absolutely certain that he would get his way."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly.  "In former days Cornelius was level-headed and just, but he is not the man he once was.  He is obsessed with his comfortable way of life, and Voldemort's supporters are poisoning him.  In his attempt to maintain the well-ordered world he loves, he may inadvertently destroy it."  Dumbledore fixed Harry and Ron with his piercing blue gaze.  "Cornelius Fudge is now a very dangerous man," he said gravely.  "You would do well to avoid him.  Please make sure that Miss Granger understands this as well."

Harry and Ron nodded.

"I believe that is enough for now," said Dumbledore.  "If you would stay but a moment, Harry, I have something to say to you."  Ron and Professor McGonagall left the room and Harry stood alone before the headmaster.  "I sense that you are unhappy with me," he said.

Harry shifted his feet uncomfortably.  "Well –" he began.

"You should be," said Dumbledore.  He looked every inch an old, old man.  "I should have asked you to join Ronald and Minerva today instead of ordering it.  No doubt the task seemed daunting to you."

"It did," Harry admitted.

Dumbledore nodded.  "Please accept my apology," he said.  "I can give no good reason for my lack of judgment, save my... extreme weariness."

"Forget about it," said Harry, and he meant it.  Acknowledgement was all he had wanted anyway.  "Are you going to stop visiting Azkaban?"

The headmaster sighed.  "For now, yes.  Ardoc will be going in my place.  Someone must go; it sounds as if Celeste didn't take the second removal of her voice well at all.  Heaven send that the Wizengamot sets a quick trial date, but I don't have much hope that Amelia will be able to make it happen."  He looked at Harry's pocket.  "I believe you still have something of mine."

"Oh!  Sorry," said Harry.  He reached into his robes and pulled out the Order of Merlin.

Dumbledore took the medallion and smiled tenderly at it.  "So many people were more deserving of this than I," he said quietly.

"But you defeated Grindelwald!" said Harry.

"I didn't do it alone," said Dumbledore.  "I had friends and allies; I had teachers and mentors.  Grindelwald's demise only came about because the magical world banded together against him.  Without that, I never would have succeeded.  We triumphed against evil then and we will do it again, if only we can heal the fractures among us."

"You weren't _undeserving_, though," said Harry.

Dumbledore gave him a weathered smile.  "I am more proud of my role as head of this school than I am of my hand in Grindelwald's defeat," he said.  "Honors and accolades only count for so much.  Many things were destroyed during the war against Grindelwald, but at Hogwarts I build young lives.  _That_ will be my greatest legacy."

Moments later Harry left Dumbledore's office and found Ron waiting beside the stone gargoyle.  Lunchtime was already half over, so they quickly collected their books and went to the Great Hall.  Heads turned as they entered; students and teachers alike watched them with considering eyes.

"What happened?" Hermione exclaimed as they sat down.  Other students began crowding around, and before they knew it Harry and Ron found themselves surrounded by a large group of students from every house.

Harry and Ron waited for a minute until the crowd quieted down.  "She pled not guilty to everything," said Ron, and everyone began talking again.  A few students even applauded.

Harry had an idea.  If Dumbledore thought it was time to actively oppose Fudge, then he wouldn't care if they spread a few things around before the _Daily Prophet_ version of events came out.  "Professor McGonagall ripped Fudge up one side and down the other," he said in a carrying voice.

"Yeah," said Ron, catching on.  "He deserved it, too.  He wants to kill all the Singers."

Horrified gasps sounded around them.  "He said that?" said Justin Finch-Fletchly.

"He wants to 'cull it from the population for the good of all'," said Harry.  "Sounds like genocide to me."

"Perhaps he just wouldn't let them reproduce," drawled a familiar voice.  The crowd parted a bit to reveal Draco Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as usual.

"Idiocy," snapped Hermione.  "The talent can show up in anyone.  It isn't always passed down from parent to child.  If Fudge means what he says, he's talking about murder."

"How would you know?" Draco sneered.

"I can read," Hermione retorted.

"Can't you?" said Ron.

Draco's eyes narrowed.  "Your father ought to be more careful about where he throws his support," he said.  "How will your parents ever manage with no income, Weasley?  I expect they're begging in the streets already."

"You've got no room to gloat," said Harry.  "Fudge and your dad lost big today.  The Wizengamot ordered the Constrictor destroyed.  Sounds like your dad was seen buying it from someone he shouldn't have been talking to."

"He had a reason," Draco hissed.  "Professor Thornby is dangerous to everyone.  She isn't as innocent as she makes herself out to be.  Her father tried to rig the election for Minister of Magic, you know, and both her parents associated with Dark wizards."

"Liar," Ron said bitterly.  "Her father was duped by You-Know-Who's Death Eaters.  You ought to know; your dad's one of them."

Draco went crimson.  He snatched his wand from his pocket and pointed it at Ron.  At the same time Ron leapt to his feet and drew his own wand.  The watching crowd backed away, murmuring nervously.

"I'll thrash you from here to Sunday for that," Draco growled.

"Ladies first," Ron retorted.

"Stop this at once!"  Professor Bellaton was stalking toward them.  He looked positively irate.  Students in the crowd scurried to get out of his way.  Ron and Draco quickly lowered their wands.

"What do you mean by drawing your wands in the middle of the Great Hall?" he snapped.

"Malfoy insulted my dad!" Ron exclaimed.

"Weasley slandered mine," Draco replied angrily.

"I don't care who said what!" said Bellaton.  "You will not threaten each other within this school!  Is that understood?"

Ron and Draco glared at each other, but both said "Yes, sir," in sullen tones.

"Good," Bellaton said.  "That will be three nights' detention for both of you."

"Three!" Draco and Ron cried together.

"Three," Bellaton replied flatly.  "Perhaps that will teach you to keep a lid on your tempers.  Back to your lunches, everyone," he said, waving the other students away.  "The show's over."

"Got a bit of a short fuse, hasn't he?" said Ron as he sat back down.

"He wasn't wrong to do what he did," said Hermione, "but I can't blame you for what you did, either.  I think you're right, though – he's not usually so short with students."

"I'd think that after what happened this morning he'd be a little happier," said Harry.

"Maybe he's afraid of being collared," said Ron.

"Shh!" said Hermione.  "Do you want to land him in Azkaban?"

Ron's face fell.  "No.  I've already put someone else there, haven't I?"

Hermione looked taken aback.  "I didn't mean it like that.  That's not your fault at all."

"I know," said Ron.  "But in a way, it's true."

The lunch hour was nearly over, so Harry and Ron didn't get a chance to talk more with Hermione until after classes were over.  When Herbology finally ended, the three of them seized their bags and took off across the school grounds.  Other students watched them with interest but no one followed.  They walked far past the Quidditch pitch and onto a large, empty section of the grounds.  With no trees or buildings nearby, they felt safe from eavesdroppers.

When Harry and Ron finally finished telling both what had happened and what Dumbledore had said to them, Hermione was shaking her head in disbelief.  "How can Fudge be so blind?" she said.

"He's turning into a right little nutter, that's for sure," said Ron.  "I knew he wasn't on our side, but I never thought he'd suggest murder!"

"Professor McGonagall really made him look like a fool," said Harry.  "I don't know how she did it, but she completely steamrolled him."

"She must be the toughest woman alive," said Ron admiringly.  "Hermione, I wish you could have seen Fudge's face when she _demanded_ that they bring Professor Thornby in right that minute.  And then when Madam Bones agreed with her!"

"So they're onto him, then?" said Hermione.

"Well, it sounds like the three factions in the court are pretty common knowledge," said Harry.  "But just because Madam Bones got control of the Wizengamot today doesn't mean she'll keep it.  A third of the members are still being threatened by Fudge."

"Yeah," said Ron.  "Harry can't be around to intimidate people all the time."

"Did you really?" said Hermione.  She beamed happily at Harry.

"Maybe a little," he admitted.  "A lot of them couldn't look me in the eye."

"Don't listen to him, Hermione," said Ron.  "Between Harry and Professor McGonagall, everyone was walking small.  I sure wish _I_ could intimidate people just by standing still."

"If you say so," said Harry.  "The point is, justice isn't guaranteed at all, or at least not as long as Fudge is blackmailing members of the Wizengamot!"

"Featherstone said he was going to work on the decrees," said Ron.  "Maybe the Wizengamot will strike them down!"

Hermione nodded her understanding.  "If they do they'll have to let Professor Thornby go," she said.  "And even Fudge's supporters can't like the fact that he passed them in secret."

"The people he's blackmailing will do whatever he says," Harry grumbled.  "All he has to do is have that Jenkins woman jerk the leash."

"Not anymore," said Hermione.  "Dumbledore has the letter Fudge sent her."

"He'll find a way," said Harry.

"Way to look on the sunny side, mate," said Ron.

"I can't help it," said Harry.  "It just seems like everyone's against us."

"That's not true," said Hermione.  "I'll be that most ordinary witches and wizards disagree with Fudge.  'He who lives well lives unnoticed.'  Besides, we've got Dumbledore.  Without him things really would be hopeless."

"Yeah," said Ron.  "Without him, Professor McGonagall would never have gotten a hearing and Professor Thornby would be collared right now."

"We _still_ don't know what those are all about," said Harry.

"Yes, we do," said Hermione.  "I've been doing some research on Constrictors."

Harry and Ron grinned at each other.  It was just like Dumbledore had said.

"What's so funny?" said Hermione, looking between the two of them.

"Nothing," said Ron.  "You were saying?"

"Well, they were first created during the Singers' War," she said.  "Apparently dozens of Singers were collared for life."

"For life?" said Harry.

"That's what the book said," said Hermione.  "Most of them were the aggressors in the war and ended up living out their lives in Azkaban in complete silence."

"Because the wizards who controlled the Constrictors never allowed them to speak?" said Ron.

"Exactly," said Hermione.

"I guess they couldn't just take the collars off, then," said Harry.

Hermione shook her head.  "Anyone else could have, though."

"How do they work?" said Harry.

"Well, I don't know the incantation or anything, but the wizard who wants to control a Singer casts a spell on the Constrictor.  Then they just snap it around the Singer's neck, and _presto_! – the Singer can't make a sound until the wizard allows it.  The texts I read weren't very clear on exactly _how_ the controller allows the Singer to speak.  It might just be a matter of thought."

"So they can't control _what_ the wearer says, just _when_ they can say it," said Ron.

"Right," said Hermione.  "But it's not just speaking that's controlled.  The person wearing the Constrictor can't Sing a note unless the controller specifically allows it.  I think that's why so many Singers were left collared in Azkaban.  The Constrictors' owners were afraid of what the prisoners might do if they were allowed to say anything at all."

Ron frowned.  "If I couldn't talk because someone was keeping me from doing it, I'd spend all my time thinking of the one thing I'd say if given the chance.  You know, a spell that would free me."

 "That's just what I thought," said Hermione.  "You wouldn't be able to take the collar off even if you had a wand, but maybe you could do something to the person who controlled you."

"That's just the kind of thing Fudge would be afraid of," said Harry.  "So if Professor Thornby is found guilty at trial, she'll be collared and left to rot in Azkaban or he'll have her killed."  No one disagreed, and the three of them fell into melancholy silence.  

They sat that way for several minutes, each of them lost in their own dark thoughts.  Ron played with the blades of grass beneath his fingers.  Hermione sat with her knees pulled up to her chest and frowned into the distance.  She was obviously pondering something; Harry had learned to recognize that look.

A bell tolled up at the school signaling the start of the dinner hour.  Harry looked around and saw that the shadows were beginning to lengthen.

"Come on, let's go back," said Ron.  "I'm starving."

"Wait a minute!" said Hermione.  "I've been wondering – why do you suppose Percy was acting so oddly?"

Ron scowled.  "I don't want to talk about him.  He's abandoned our family."

"How can you be so sure?" said Hermione.

"I saw his face!" Ron exclaimed.  "He couldn't care less if I were alive or dead!"

"He did look pretty blank," said Harry.

"But that's not how he looked at the Gala after you were attacked," said Hermione.  "He was really worried about you."

"So?" said Ron.  "He's not worried now.  He's made his choice."

"But –"

"I've got five siblings now," said Ron.  "End of story."

Hermione didn't look satisfied at all, but she let the matter go.  They gathered up their things and started walking back to the castle.  The subject of Percy seemed to have made Ron want to be alone, and he walked stiffly ahead while Harry and Hermione hung back a little.

"What are you thinking?" Harry said softly to Hermione.

"Hmm," she said.  "I'm not quite sure.  I'll have to do some more reading.  It could be nothing."

"Oh, come on," said Harry.  "You don't even want to tell me what you suspect?"

"Not until I'm certain," she said firmly.

Harry sighed.  He knew he'd get nothing more from her.  As he walked along he wondered how such an unequivocal victory that morning could still leave so many things in doubt.  Had Percy really made his final decision?  Would Lucius Malfoy be able to get his hands on another Constrictor?  What would Fudge do if Professor Thornby was found guilty?  Only one thing was clear to Harry – justice was still a long way off, and the future was by no means certain.


	36. An Early Warning

**A/N: **I've had a few calls for action, and I just wanted you to know that it's coming up soon.  Many thanks to everyone who continues to review; I've been down in the dumps again and they really cheer me up.

Jemma Blackwell: Lucius Malfoy publicly denied ever having been a Death Eater; he claimed to have been under the Imperius Curse, and it's the only way he avoided prison.  Whenever someone says otherwise it tears down his credibility.  By staying out of prison, Lucius can continue Voldemort's work.  Draco knows what his father is, of course, but he can't stand it when someone calls him a liar.  Didn't get into the detentions.  Sorry.  This chapter is a month after the last one.  I guess that could be a chapter in the "Back Stories".

athenakitty: More about Percy in this chapter and the next!

Danae: What 'last remarks' are you referring to?  Your reviews have only ever been sweet and kind.  Don't worry, the characters aren't without romantic sensibilities, but I've just chosen not to deal with them in this story.  That should change in the next one.

totallystellar: Hello again!  I missed your reviews and your inspiration dust.  I love Harry too.  :-)  Action coming soon!  There's always a battle at the end of the year…

Jedi Buttercup: Nice to hear from you again too!  I had a lot of fun writing about McGonagall giving Fudge and Malfoy the smackdown.

chuckleseviltroll312: Waiting for the next chapter?  Here it is.  Let the vicious cycle begin anew.

Wolfia: Thanks for the Latin advice!  I've changed Chapter 34 according to your instructions.  I won't doubt your textbook.  Azkaban and Fudge will be dealt with _very soon._

PhoenixTearsp322: One of these days I'm going to have to take out Phoenix and read page 322.  I've never been called eloquent before – thank you so much!!  You seem to be very well spoken yourself.  Aww, and you called my story 'exquisite' too.  I felt so warm and fuzzy when I read your review.  Thanks for the wonderful pick-me-up; I really needed it.

Dramaqueen: Welcome, welcome!  I'm glad you like my take on Harry after Cedric's death.  I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

Chapter 36: An Early Warning

A whole month passed before Harry or his friends heard anything more about Professor Thornby's trial, but they were far too busy to think much about it.  The O.W.L.s were just a few weeks away and were their biggest concern.   Even the less dedicated fifth years were studying like mad.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent so much time in the library that they were beginning to feel as if they lived in it.  When they weren't eating, sleeping, or in class, they were tucked away in the stacks.  They even stopped going to the Dueling Club, which Bellaton was now running by himself.

At the beginning of May Hufflepuff soundly defeated Ravenclaw in a rousing Quidditch match.  Slytherin and Ravenclaw had both lost twice, and the points stood such that it was Gryffindor who would be facing Hufflepuff in the championship.  This meant that Harry and Ron had Quidditch practice as often as they could squeeze it in.  This time, however, they weren't the only ones with tight schedules.  Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia were all seventh years and had N.E.W.T.s coming up, which were supposed to be even worse than O.W.L.s.  Katie Bell was the only person on the team who wasn't going insane, so Angelina let her take over leading the practices and working out strategies.

Another driving force in Harry, Ron, and Hermione's lives was the _Daily Prophet_.  Every morning they scoured it for news while they ate breakfast.  For most of the month after the hearing, the paper bore nothing but bad tidings.  Now that Professor Thornby's trial was certain to take place, the smear campaign against her began in earnest.  One morning Hermione unrolled the paper to find the headline 'BAD APPLE FROM BAD SEED' above two pictures of Professor Thornby.  The first was a family portrait.  A young girl with long hair, big eyes, and one missing front tooth sat on the lap of a pretty woman.  The tall, fair-haired man standing behind them alternated between smiling for the camera and beaming proudly down at his family.  In the other picture an adult Professor Thornby was wielding the quarterstaff against someone Harry didn't recognize, but she was trouncing him thoroughly.

"I guess they couldn't find a picture of her looking ugly," said Ron.  "That's what they usually do when they want to slander someone."

Hermione glanced critically at the fighting photograph.  "I doubt that there are many pictures of her at all, much less of her looking ugly," she said.  "Look how happy her family seems.  It's sad knowing what happened to them, isn't it?"

Harry skimmed through the article.  Nothing in it surprised him.  The main thrust was on her parents' poor judgment that had gotten them killed.  It accused Felix Thornby of trying to rig the Ministerial election, just as Malfoy had done.  It also brought up her lengthy stay beneath the Sorting Hat, and the writer asserted that it was Professor Thornby's dishonest nature that gave the Hat pause.  Her disappearance from society after graduation, her ability to Sing, and her skill with weapons were all cited as evidence of how dangerous she was.

"Of course she's dangerous," Harry muttered as he finished the article.  "But only to Dark wizards."

The inflammatory articles about Professor Thornby weren't the only unpleasant things to show up in the paper.  The _Avada Kedavra_ killings, which had died down for a few months, started up again with the deaths of the Rogers, an elderly couple.  Word quickly spread around the school that the dead had been close friends of Dumbledore's.  Rumors spread like wildfire until Professor McGonagall finally confirmed them.  There was an immediate outpouring of support from the students, but Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen for almost a week after the article was published.

Some good news finally arrived on the day before the championship Quidditch match.  The _Daily Prophet_ finally reported what everyone had been waiting for: Professor Thornby would stand trial on the second Saturday in June.  It seemed that despite Madam Bones' efforts, the trial date had been set almost as far from the hearing as possible.  Harry was feeling horribly impatient with the magical legal system, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it, especially if Dumbledore could not.

That same morning, the four Weasley children received word from the Burrow that their father had found work.  "Mum didn't really specify what," said Ron as he related the letter's contents to Harry and Hermione.  "It sounds like it pays more than working in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office, though."

"Well, that's good," said Hermione.

"As long as it's got something to do with Muggles, I don't know that Dad will care," said Ron.  "Anyway, at least there was _some_ good news.  The rest wasn't so great.  Mum says that they haven't heard from Percy in more than a month."

"I thought you didn't care about Percy anymore," said Harry.

"I don't care for _me_," said Ron, "but he's hurting Mum.  He has to know it."

Hermione frowned.  "He moved out of the Burrow, right?"

"Right," said Ron.

"Well, if he really has decided to forsake all of you in favor of Fudge, then I wonder how you can be surprised that he's not in contact," said Hermione.

"Mum knew where he was living after he moved out," said Ron.  "She says he must have moved again without telling them.  She went to his flat looking for him and everything was gone."

"Maybe he's trying to completely sever his ties," said Harry.

Ron looked completely dejected.  "If I ever see Percy again, I'll knock him senseless," he said.  "Mum's been a wreck these past few months, I just know it.  How can he be so unfeeling?"

"Ron, have you considered the fact that this might not be his choice?" Hermione said softly.

"What do you mean?" said Ron.

"I've been doing some more reading," said Hermione, "about the Imperius Curse."

A hush fell over the group.  "Imperius?" breathed Ron.

"When Mad-Eye Moody – I mean Crouch – told us about the Unforgivables last year, I took out a few books from the library on the subject," she said.  "When you told me how Percy acted at Professor Thornby's hearing it got me thinking.  Everything fits: the glassy eyes, lack of recognition, complete separation from family and close friends, and strange behavior all around."

"But it's possible that he could just be a smarmy git," said Ron.

"Yes," said Hermione.  "But if Fudge wanted to put him under the Imperius Curse, he had the perfect opportunity.  Percy was already separating himself from your family, so more extreme behavior might just be seen the way you're seeing it.  No one would ever guess."

"But why would Fudge do it?" said Ron.  "Percy was already devoted to him."

"Maybe he was having second thoughts," said Hermione.  "One thing's for sure – he wasn't under any curse at the Ministry Gala.  You should have seen his face, Ron.  He was worried sick about you."

"Maybe he disagreed with Fudge about Professor Thornby," said Harry.  "She did save your life, after all.  That's got to mean something to him."

"Who knows," said Hermione.  "It's just a possibility, that's all, but it's not remote.  Everyone says that Fudge is different nowadays.  You two heard him sanction murder.  Who's to say he hasn't started using the Unforgivables as well?  With Lucius Malfoy as his advisor, anything could happen."

"She's right," said Harry.

Ron scrubbed a hand through his red hair.  "Well, what should I do?" he said.  "Should I tell my parents, or Dumbledore?"

"I'd start with Dumbledore," said Harry.  "He'll know what to do."

"They're only suspicions," said Hermione, "but he should at least be aware of them."

"He hasn't been around since his friends died," said Ron.  "We ought to tell _someone._"  Harry watched his friend out of the corner of his eye.  Ron's unhappy expression made it plain that whatever Percy had done, he still cared very much about him.

Somehow Harry, Ron, and Hermione didn't manage to get around to finding either Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall, who was an obvious second choice.  There was simply too much to do.  Harry and Ron attended a last minute Quidditch practice that ended up just being a friendly game of three on four ("We all need to relax a bit before tomorrow," said Angelina), and while they were on the field, Hermione went to the library.  Harry and Ron joined her afterwards, and it wasn't long before Katie found them and ordered them to go to bed early.  "You need your rest," she said.

Harry and Ron did need their rest, both of them being tired from the weeks of unrelenting study and Quidditch practice.  Unfortunately, they didn't get to sleep straight through until morning.  When a knock sounded on the fifth year boys' door at two in the morning, Harry had a pretty good guess as to who was outside.

The rest of his roommates were sleeping like the dead, so Harry got up, pulled on his dressing gown, and answered the door.  Just as he had expected, Leonard Fidemont was standing in the hallway.  "Thanks," said Harry.  "I'll be right down."

"No problem," yawned Leonard, and he headed back down the staircase.

Harry yanked aside one of Ron's heavy bedcurtains.  Ron was flat on his back and snoring softly.  "Ron," said Harry, shaking his friend's shoulder.  "Ron."  Ron yawned and rolled over.  "Come on, wake up," said Harry, shaking him harder.

Ron blearily opened his eyes.  "Whozat?" he murmured.

"It's me, stupid," said Harry.  "Get up.  Hermione's had another dream."

This was finally enough to rouse Ron.  He staggered out of bed and followed Harry out of the dormitory.

Hermione was waiting in the common room on one of the plush red sofas.  She had relit the fire and was staring into the flames.

"You okay?" Ron said sleepily as he sat down.

"Yes," said Hermione.

"It wasn't as bad as usual?" asked Harry.

"Oh, no, it was bad," said Hermione, "but at least I know what's going on now.  I feel like I've already got a lot more control over this than I used to."  She drew a deep breath.  "I guess I could have let you sleep, but I thought I should tell you about it right away.  It's my first dream since the one about... about the monsters, so I haven't really learned how to interpret them yet."

"But you know something anyway," said Harry.

Hermione smiled weakly at him.  "Yes, I do.  Fudge wants something from Professor Thornby, and he wants to use you to get it."

"What?" said Ron, now fully awake.

"I don't know what he wants, but whatever it is, she won't give it willingly," said Hermione.  "He'll threaten you to force her to do his will."

No one spoke for a minute.  Finally Harry said, "Is it guaranteed that Fudge is going to get his hands on me?"

"No," said Hermione.  "I only know what happens if he succeeds.  If he gets you, Professor Thornby will give him what he wants, and believe me, you don't want that to happen."

"How can you dream about this and not know what it is that Professor Thornby's got?" said Ron.

"It was all very abstract," said Hermione.  "You'll just have to trust that I know what I know."

Harry stared straight ahead at the fire, but he wasn't really seeing it.  "Why me?" he said.  "You don't think Fudge knows about our connection, do you?"

"I guess it's possible," she said.  "I'm not sure how he'd know, though.  They can't have used Veritaserum to question her; they'd have to return her voice to be able to do that, and we know Fudge isn't comfortable with that."

"What if they found another Constrictor?" said Ron.

"That would do it," said Harry darkly.

"It would," Hermione admitted.

"Maybe he wants you for another reason," said Ron.  "I mean, you are the Boy Who Lived and all.  He probably hates you as much as he hates Dumbledore."

"Possibly," Hermione agreed.  "Fudge has to know that Professor Thornby wouldn't be willing to sacrifice you of all people."

Harry didn't understand, and he said as much.

"Dumbledore thinks that Voldemort is back, and Professor Thornby does, too.  She wouldn't let you be harmed because you have to be around to face him again," Hermione explained.

Harry didn't say anything, and his friends took it for lack of acceptance.  "Come on, mate.  Everyone knows that if someone's going to bring down Voldemort, it's going to be you," said Ron.

It hurt Harry to hear his friends voice the very thing he'd been trying not to think of for the past two years.  He and Voldemort had crossed swords so many times by now that a final showdown seemed like a foregone conclusion, but it was absolutely terrifying to think of.  As he mused on the grim prospect, something Dumbledore had said long ago tickled the back of Harry's mind... something about defeating Voldemort...

"That's not true," said Harry.  "There are lots of ways that Voldemort could be defeated."

"Yes, but –" Ron began, but Harry suddenly remembered what Dumbledore had said.

"I could be used," he said softly.  Ron and Hermione glanced at each other uncertainly.  "Last summer, the day Professor Thornby took her oath, Dumbledore said that I could be a component of a spell to finish him off."

"What spell?" said Hermione.  "How?"

"They didn't say," said Harry.  "I got the impression that they were hoping no one else would figure out what it was."

"That can't be what Fudge wants you for," said Ron.  "He doesn't believe that Voldemort's back, so he can't be looking for a way to get rid of him.  Besides, all his Death Eater friends would steer him away from that line of thinking.  I think the first idea makes the most sense."

As much as he disliked it, Harry had to agree.  If Fudge didn't know that Professor Thornby was his magical guardian, he'd certainly guessed well in picking Harry to force her to comply with his wishes.  Harry didn't think that she would do anything to violate the oath she had taken.  It struck him as terribly ironic that she might do more damage to them both by keeping her word than by breaking it.

"Do you know when this is going to happen?" said Harry.

"I don't know when Fudge is going to try to take you, but he _will_ try," said Hermione.

"So we don't have to go and wake anybody up right now?" said Ron.

"It can wait until morning," said Hermione.  "You're going to be under a close watch from here on out, Harry."

"As if I weren't already," Harry sighed.  "This will be the fourth time this year I've been in harm's way: poison, the suit of armor, Grayson, and now this."

Ron laughed dryly.  "Let's not forget about the other four years," he said.

"You don't think that Fudge would settle for either of you instead of me?" Harry said abruptly.  "We're always together, and you two have been in danger this year, too.  Hermione, you were with me when the suit of armor attacked, and Ron almost fell to his death before getting seriously cursed."

Hermione and Ron looked very uncomfortable at the prospect.  "All I got from my dream was who Fudge wanted and why, and that was you," said Hermione.  "What happens if he fails, I can't say.  I'm sorry; I wish I could tell you more."

"It's a lot more than we knew when we went to bed," said Harry.

"Speaking of which, we've got a Quidditch championship tomorrow afternoon," said Ron.  "I don't know about you, Harry, but I'm going to need some more sleep."

At the mention of sleep Harry yawned.  "Yeah," he agreed.

"You two sleep in," said Hermione.  "I'll get up and find Professor McGonagall in the morning.  I can tell her about Percy while I'm at it."

"That's awfully big of you," said Ron.

"No bigger than you two getting up to keep me company the night before the championship game," said Hermione with a smile.

"As if we wouldn't," said Harry.

Hermione smiled.  "Good night."

**********

Harry tugged his elbow pads a bit tighter while Angelina lectured from across the locker room.  He was surprised to feel butterflies in his stomach.  He hadn't been nervous before a Quidditch match since his first year, and he had no idea why he should be now.  Hufflepuff was going to be a formidable opponent, but they were nothing to get worried about.  Harry thought that if he were going to be nervous about a match it would be one against Slytherin, if only for fear of the bodily harm he suffered every time they played each other.

"Hufflepuff is ahead of Gryffindor by two hundred and fifty house points," said Angelina.  "Harry, that means that your main job is going to be stopping Edwards from getting the Snitch until we manage to get at least a one hundred point lead."

"Are we going to be able to do that?" said Alicia.  "Hufflepuff is really good this year."

"Yeah.  They really want this victory for Cedric Diggory," said George.  "They can taste it already."

"If it weren't the last year for most of us, I might say let 'em have it," said Fred.

"How would our throwing the match honor Cedric's memory?" said Katie.  "If Hufflepuff wants it, they're going to have to take it."

"Just don't catch the Snitch until we've got a leg up, Harry," said Angelina.  Ron suddenly gave a great, gaping yawn, and she turned her eagle eye on him.  "Did you go to bed when Katie told you to?" she snapped.

"Had to get up in the middle of the night," said Ron from behind his hand.

"Why?" Angelina demanded.

"Too much pumpkin juice at dinner," Ron said evasively.

Fred and George snickered, but Angelina, Katie, and Alicia gave Harry and Ron critical looks.  "All right," Angelina said mildly.  "You're up to the challenge, though?  I'll call in the reserve Keeper if I have to."

"I'm ready," said Ron stoutly.

As the team left the locker room and headed for the gate, Alicia fell into step beside Harry.  "Is Hermione all right?" she said softly.  The twins were sparring loudly and couldn't hear.

"She's a lot better than she was last time," said Harry.

Alicia nodded.  "Listen, we don't know what those nightmares are all about, but tell her that Angelina, Katie, and I are pulling for her, okay?"

Harry grinned at her.  "Okay."

They had reached the gate.  Everybody stopped walking, and Angelina turned to face the rest of the team one last time.  "We've had a great run," she said.  Her voice quavered a bit as she spoke.  "I'm going to miss you guys next year."

"Oh, don't start tearing up," said Fred with a loud, false sniff.  "It's just so _contagious..._"  He sniffed again, and George started bawling loudly.

"Typical," said Angelina, rolling her eyes.  "I'm just trying to tell you guys how great you all are, and you go making fun of me –"

Fred laughed and threw his arm around her.  "Thanks, love.  We think you're great, too."

"It _has_ been a good couple of years, hasn't it?" said Katie.

"You lucky three still have some time left," said George.

"Then we'd better make sure we send the rest of you off victorious," said Harry.  He stuck his hand out, and the rest of his teammates did the same, making a messy pile of gauntleted fists.

The trumpet sounded, signaling their turn to enter.  "GRYFFINDOR!" they shouted together.  The gate opened, they mounted their broomsticks, and flew out into the glorious May sunshine.  The butterflies in Harry's stomach vanished as the first breeze washed over his face.  Flying always had a soothing effect on him.  The players took their positions, Madam Hooch tossed up the Quaffle, and the game began.

Harry and his teammates had watched Hufflepuff from the stands during their previous games and marveled, but being on the field with them was a completely different story.  Hufflepuff had improved so much that the team was almost unrecognizable, but Gryffindor wanted to win as badly as they did.  From the very beginning it was a true game of skill between the two teams.  All six Chasers were flying at their best, and both Keepers were equally determined.  Harry had rarely seen Fred and George look as serious as they did that afternoon.  When the first hour mark ticked by and Hufflepuff had a mere ten point lead over Gryffindor, Harry knew it was going to be a long match.

Any time one team got some sort of lead on the other, it was quickly eradicated.  Harry had never seen Ron fly better than he did that day.  He stopped nearly everything that came his way, but so did Hufflepuff's Keeper.  When the Hufflepuff Chasers managed to put three balls in succession through the Gryffindor hoops, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie used the Sloth Grip Roll and gradually evened out the score.

Harry and Edwards had each spotted the Snitch several times, and so far the Gryffindors had managed to keep the Hufflepuff Seeker from catching it.  Harry got in his way with some fancy flying, and Fred and George bombarded him with Bludgers.  Every now and then Harry and Edwards would feint each other to wild applause from the stands.  It wasn't unlike the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match, but this time the bitter subtext between the Seekers was missing.  Still, it was frustrating for Harry to see the Snitch and have to let it zip away; he felt that he could have ended the game more than once, but Gryffindor couldn't seem to get any kind of advantage over Hufflepuff.

The second hour passed, and Gryffindor had a slim twenty point lead.  Harry's back was starting to hurt.  He had just successfully foiled another attempt by Edwards to catch the Snitch, but it felt like the umpteenth time he had done so.  He soared up to one of the twins, keeping one eye on Edwards the whole time.

"How long do you reckon I have to keep stalling Edwards?" Harry shouted.

"Another hour at least," George called back.  He swung his Beater and sent a black Bludger rocketing back toward the Hufflepuff side.  "After that we'll just have to see."

Harry had never played a game where the Gryffindor team was so evenly matched.  The Slytherins had good brooms and some great flyers, but they also cheated.  Ravenclaw wasn't a pushover, but their team just wasn't the well-oiled, tightly-integrated machine that Gryffindor was.  It was Hufflepuff that no one ever worried about defeating.  Yet as the three hour mark crept closer, Harry began to suspect that the game could go on all night and Gryffindor would never get the lead they needed to secure the House Cup.

When three hours had passed, Angelina flew up to Harry.  "We Chasers feel that you can go ahead and go for the Snitch," she said.  "Fred, George, and Ron seem to agree.  We can be satisfied with the Quidditch Cup.  Of course, if that's not enough for you –"

"They've earned it," said Harry, looking toward the Hufflepuff side.  "I'm not going to miss the Snitch for the third time in a row, though."

Angelina grinned at him.  "That's the spirit," she said, and flew back down to join Katie and Alicia.

Harry soared around the stadium, now looking more for the Snitch and less at Edwards.  The crowd seemed to have picked up on what was going on.  The Gryffindor team was clearly putting forth an effort to get a few more points on the board before the game ended.  The watching students shouted louder than ever as Alicia put one more past the Hufflepuff Keeper.

It wasn't long before Harry saw the Snitch fluttering near one of the stands.  One glance at Edwards told him that he hadn't seen it; he was looking in the wrong direction.  For a moment Harry considered letting it go once more so Gryffindor could get a few more points, but then Lee's magnified voice announced another goal by Hufflepuff, and Harry knew that Angelina was right.  They really could play for days before anyone got a significant lead, and it might not even be Gryffindor who pulled ahead.

Harry dove.  The crowd roared and Edwards began streaking toward him, but he was too late.  Harry easily snatched the golden ball out of the air and raised it above his head in triumph.

Both the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students cheered madly.  Gryffindor was celebrating yet another capture of the Quidditch Cup while Hufflepuff saw the House Cup in their grasp for the first time in a decade.  As Harry flew a victory lap around the stadium, he found that he couldn't begrudge Hufflepuff their larger victory.  Angelina was right; they'd earned it by putting forth an extraordinary effort all year, and not just on the Quidditch field.  Harry supposed that if one of the Gryffindors had died, his House would have done the same thing.

The two teams landed and shook hands.  "Nice flying, Potter," said Edwards as his hand clasped Harry's.

"You too," said Harry.  "It wasn't easy to stop you, you know."

"Well, congratulations on winning the Quidditch Cup.  Again," said the Hufflepuff.

"You guys were _really_ good," Harry said honestly.

Edwards flashed him a toothy grin.  "Thanks," he said.

The Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were all storming the field.  Soon Harry and his teammates were being pummeled on the back by students from their House.  Colin Creevey was snapping photographs right and left.  Angelina and Alicia were so happy with their last win that they were nearly in tears, and Fred and George were doing some sort of crazy victory dance.

After posing for a team photograph, Ron pushed his way to Harry's side.  "Where's Hermione?" he shouted over the din.

"I don't know," Harry shouted back.  "Didn't she come?"

"Look, McGonagall's not here either," said Ron.  "And neither is Hagrid!  They wouldn't have missed this match for anything!"

"Hermione must be up at the castle with them," said Harry.  "She must have set off some alarms with this dream."

"Come on, let's go find her," said Ron.  "I think I'm starting to bruise from all this thumping on my back."

They pushed their way out of the crowd and started back toward the castle.  Not many people saw them go, even though they were members of the victorious team; there were simply too many people celebrating on the field.

"I'm _tired_," Ron complained as they made their way up to Gryffindor Tower.  Neither one of them wanted to lug their brooms around the castle while they looked for Hermione.  "Great match, but it sure was tight.  You usually don't take so long to catch the Snitch."

"I'm not usually instructed _not_ to," said Harry.  "You did really well yourself.  Oliver would've been proud of you."

Ron grinned.  "You think so?"

"Yeah!" said Harry.  "Keep it up and the Chudley Cannons will be trying to recruit you, too."

A faraway look appeared in Ron's eyes.  "Flying for the Cannons," he sighed.  "That'd be wicked."

They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.  "Free Professor Thornby," said Harry.

The portrait hole swung open and a most unexpected sight met their eyes.

"Hermione!" Ron gasped.

She was lying prone on the floor, arms and legs splayed about as if she had fallen.  Harry and Ron ran up to her and began feeling for a pulse.

"She's all right," said a voice from one of the armchairs.  "I merely Stunned her."

Harry and Ron's heads jerked up to see Percy Weasley sitting not five feet away.

"What are _you_ doing here?" said Ron.

"I've got a message," Percy said tonelessly.  "For Harry."


	37. The Unwilling Accomplice

**A/N: **The year-end conflict approacheth.  (I know that's not a real word.  I also know that Harry hasn't taken his O.W.L.s yet, but there's no reason the big fight can't happen first.)  Reviewer responses are a bit lengthy, mostly due to the presence of two negative reviews from the same reader.  It takes longer to address those.

totallystellar: I _did_ miss you!  And thanks for the Guardian Salad – it was just the thing I needed.  So you don't like Percy _or_ Ron?  Oh, well...  Read on, my friend.

athenakitty: Will Percy get zapped?  Keep reading and find out.

Danae: Both of your questions are answered in this chapter.  And yes, I am having lots of fun writing!

Darak: You have the distinction of being only the second person to give this story a true thumbs-down.  The first bad review I got was on the very first chapter and was so infantile in its composition that I deleted it.  It was of the "you suck" variety from a guy who had only read about two paragraphs before passing judgment.  Anyway, your reviews were more mature than that, which I appreciate.  About the first review: is Dumbledore stupid in this story?  No.  His reason for not acting at the time was that he wasn't ready to fight both the Ministry and Voldemort at once.  What is going on here is that Fudge is blackmailing, buying, or simply resonating with many members of the various branches of the magical government.  He wants to control them all.  I made the point in an earlier chapter that the system was outdated with the potential for exploitation.  If you think this kind of thing can't be done, think again.  Tyrants flourish on intimidation and manipulation.  Look at Hitler; look at Stalin; look at Noriega.  Fictional Fudge is not really like any of these people, but I hope you see my point.  When immoral men are in charge of governments, terrible things happen, no matter how clearly self-serving their actions are.  As to the second review: I most certainly agree that both good and evil are present in the world, but your reproach is theological in nature, which I will not debate here.  If you want a very light, happy story, you may want to look elsewhere.  That being said, I do not consider this to be a "dark" tale at all; there are plenty of stories full of despair on fanfiction.net (Harry kills himself, various characters give up on life, etc.) that I won't touch with a ten-foot pole.  Good will ultimately triumph in this continuing yarn, but the road to victory will not be without tribulation or cost!  As the saying goes, the darkest hour is just before dawn.  Of course, since you say you _despise _my story, I would recommend finding something else to read.  I am sorry you didn't enjoy it more, but I guess I can't please everyone.

Kaye: I can feel your excitement radiating from here!

Rob: Hello, and welcome!  I'm glad you've been entertained!  I've answered your question (hopefully) in this chapter.  Thanks so much for the kind comments; they were wonderful to see after Darak's disapproval.

LovinsomeElrond: I was humbled into silence by your review.  I've never had higher praise than yours.  I am thrilled – thrilled, I say – that you liked the story so much.  I'm especially pleased that you liked the OCs; I know that OCs can be cloying when not done well.  You've come in near the end of the story, so you won't have to wait forever to find out what happens.

Sherry: Welcome to the story!  I love seeing new reviewers!  Sorry about the cliffhanger – I don't do them very often, only when the chapter naturally seems to end at one.

Wytil: It's great to see your name again!  Keep reading to see what Percy does…

Jemma Blackwell: Hee, I love reading your reviews.  Hey, someone else who likes it when the trio talks about stuff!  They've got such a tight friendship that it feels natural to me.

Quill: Nice to see you again, too!  Sorry, but there's another cliffhanger at the end of this chapter.

Chapter 37: The Unwilling Accomplice

Harry and Ron looked between Percy and Hermione, trying to decide what to do.  Percy was holding his wand in one hand.  Harry's was tucked away inside his robes; you didn't need your wand when playing Quidditch, but he was never without it.  He couldn't just reach for it, though.  Percy had Stunned Hermione, so there was no telling what he would do next.

"What is this message?" Harry finally said.

"It's not something that can be told," said Percy.  "You need to be shown."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances that spoke volumes.  Neither one of them was buying _that_ fish tale.__

"What about me?" Ron said warily.  "Can I come?"

"If you wish," said Percy.

Harry blinked.  He hadn't been expecting that.  Still, he was certain that Hermione's dream was coming to pass right before his eyes.

"What makes you think I'll just up and go with you?" Harry said carefully.  "You haven't given me any reason to think I should."

"Yeah," said Ron in a challenging tone.  "Tell us something about this message or no dice."

"I am your brother," said Percy.  "My word should be enough for you."

"You betrayed our family!" snapped Ron.  "What could you possibly say that would make me trust you?"

"You must believe me," said Percy, breaking his near-monotone for the first time.  He looked back at them, his eyes flitting madly from one of their faces to the other, back and forth, back and forth.  They were full of paralyzed fear, but it was the oddest thing, because the rest of his face was perfectly smooth.

Harry's skin was crawling.  He wasn't sure how he and Ron were going to get out of the situation, but keeping Percy talking seemed like the best thing to do.  It couldn't be long before some of the other Gryffindors came back to the common room, and when they did, Percy would be distracted enough for them to reach their wands.  "Ron's right," Harry said in a stronger voice.  "Tell us something about the message."

Percy's mouth twisted into a slight grimace.  His eyes continued to burn feverishly.  "They're going to execute her," he said.

Ron froze.  "Who?" he said, although he and Harry both knew who Percy was talking about.

"Celeste Thornby.  Tonight."

Harry's blood ran cold.  _Fudge is going to kill her?  Without a trial?  He's gone mad!  _They needed more time.  Harry seized Ron's arm and pulled him backwards.  "Give us a second to talk," he said, and Percy nodded.

"His eyes," Harry whispered after they had moved several feet away.  "It's got to be the Imperius Curse."

"I figured," Ron whispered back.  "But how can you be sure?"

"I saw Mr. Crouch last year when he was under it.  Later on Dumbledore said he was fighting it at the time.  He didn't act quite like this, but I think Percy's fighting it too.  He's trying to tell us something, but he can't say it.  Not with his mouth, anyway."

"So is he lying or is he telling the truth?" said Ron desperately.

"I don't know," Harry mused, "but it's not all exactly like he said.  This is the trap Hermione was talking about, whether Fudge is going to kill Professor Thornby or not."

Ron glanced in Percy's direction and his eyes suddenly widened.  Harry started to look too, but Ron jerked his gaze back to Harry and hissed, "Don't look!  Hermione's waking up, but Percy's watching us too closely."

Harry kept his own eyes on Percy.  "Keep stalling," he whispered.  "Come on, Hermione..."  He risked the briefest of glances down and saw that her eyelashes were fluttering.  Percy was still oblivious to her.

"Please," Percy said from across the room.  "You must come with me and stop them."

Harry and Ron eyed him warily.  "I don't think we should go anywhere alone with you.  If they're really going to kill her, then we need to get Dumbledore," said Harry.

"No," said Percy.  He licked his lips.  "They're expecting him to come.  They won't expect you."

"Professor McGonagall, then.  Or Professor Bellaton."  Ron's voice held a definite note of desperation.  Harry's own feelings perfectly mirrored his friend's.  Percy was growing more insistent, and things were getting out of hand.  What was Percy going to do if he tired of the game before Hermione recovered or another Gryffindor came?  Attack and drag them along?

Percy stood up and ran his fingers along the length of his wand.  A tear leaked from each of his eyes while the rest of his face remained masklike.  "It's wrong for them to kill her," he said in that eerie, flat voice.  "You will help me stop them."  He took a step forward.

"You're not yourself," said Ron, stepping backwards.

Percy continued to advance on them slowly.  Harry and Ron backed up, but the moment they reached for their own robes, Percy leveled his wand at them.  "Don't make me do this," he grated.  "One way or another, you're coming with me."

Percy had walked past Hermione.  Harry sneaked another glance and saw that her eyes were fully open.  Her head was turned in their direction, but she wasn't looking at them – she was looking at her wand, which lay a few inches from her right hand.  Ever so slowly, she was inching her hand closer and closer.

Percy drew a deep breath.  Harry and Ron exchanged panicked glances.  They were going to have to go for their wands; Percy couldn't curse them both at the same time, but one of them was about to get hit with something nasty.

"Ready?" Harry whispered as softly as he could.

Ron nodded, his eyes wide.

"NOW!"

Harry and Ron plunged their hands into their robes and the air erupted with the sound of people shouting.  Harry felt his fingers close around smooth wood just as a jet of white light struck him in the shoulder.  He was blasted backwards off his feet and crashed to the floor.  His arm was cold and heavy, like a block of lead.  To his horror, the icy feeling was swiftly creeping across his chest.  Already it was licking at the base of his neck.  He felt his lungs seize up; he couldn't breathe… and just as suddenly as it had begun, the icy feeling drained away.  Harry drew great, shuddering gasps as lungs thawed.

"Are you okay?" Ron said shakily from next to him.

"Yeah," Harry breathed.  His heart was fluttering like a bird in a very small cage.  There were a lot of people in the common room.  Ron and Bellaton were at his side, looking at him with concern.  Behind them he could see Professor McGonagall and Hagrid helping Hermione up.  There were several others standing around, but Harry was having a hard time taking everything in.  "Did you get him?" he asked.

"A lot of people got him, including me and Hermione."  There was a clear note of pride in Ron's voice.

"Hermione?" said Harry.

"I'm all right," she said breathlessly.

"Did you get hit with anything, son?" said a familiar voice.

Harry and Ron looked up.  "Dad?" said Ron in confusion.

"Did he hit you?" Mr. Weasley repeated urgently.

"No," said Ron.  "He only hit Harry."

"And a nasty curse it was, too," said another familiar voice.

"Sirius!" Harry exclaimed.  He looked all around, but he couldn't see his godfather anywhere.  "Where are you?"

"I'm under the Disillusionment Charm," said Sirius.  "I can't afford to be seen walking the halls of Hogwarts just yet."  Harry suddenly felt the warm pressure of a hand on his shoulder.  "Look closer," said Sirius.

Harry looked at his shoulder, and then he saw it – a hand.  It was the same color as his Quidditch robes and very hard to see.  Harry followed the hand back and saw an arm, which led to a body.  It was difficult to make Sirius out at all; he was like a human chameleon.

"Right," said Mr. Weasley.  "I think we've got you both taken care of."  He looked over to where Percy lay in a heap on the floor.  Mrs. Weasley was anxiously feeling at his face while Dumbledore and some unfamiliar people bent over him.

Harry suddenly jumped.  He could barely sense her, but Professor Thornby was moving somewhere and moving fast.  Alarm bells were going off in his head.  _Danger!  Darkness!  Despair!_

"What is it?" Professor Bellaton said urgently.  He grasped Harry's arm so tightly that it almost hurt.

"She's in trouble!" Harry gasped.  "Percy was telling the truth!"

"We do not know that for sure," said Dumbledore, rising from where he had stooped over Percy's still form.

Harry put his hands on either side of his head as the warnings screamed at him again.  "She's in a lot of trouble!" he cried.

"There is one way to find out what is really going on," said Dumbledore.  "Severus, have you more Veritaserum?"

"I have," said Snape, stepping out of the shadows.

"Please fetch it as fast as you can," said Dumbledore.  "Time, I fear, is of the essence."  Snape quickly left the room.

Harry was terribly frustrated.  Did Dumbledore not grasp the urgency of the situation?  "We don't have time," he said loudly.  The adults all looked at him curiously, but fear had emboldened him.  "We have to find her _now._"

"I am not insensible of the danger," said Dumbledore.  "But if it was all as Hermione told us – and Dreamers are seldom wrong – then Fudge will be waiting for Percy to return with you.  We do not have much time, but we have some."  He looked down at Percy.  "Poor lad," he murmured.  "So intelligent and yet so foolish at the same time."

"Was it the Imperius Curse?" said Ron.

"Indeed it was, Ronald," said Dumbledore.  "But from the looks of things, he has been fighting it for some time.  When he comes round, we shall learn all we can from him."

While Snape was gone, Harry took a good look around the room.  There were two other people inside that he didn't know.  One was a black man with a shiny bald head and one golden earring.  He looked to be about the same great height and bulk as Bellaton.  His size only made the woman next to him seem even smaller than she was.  She was young and had shocking pink hair, a button nose, and mischievous eyes.

"Who are they?" Harry said to no one in particular.

Sirius' voice answered.  "The man is Kingsley Shacklebolt, and the woman is Nymphadora Tonks.  Call her Nymphadora and you're likely to get a drubbing; she prefers to go by just Tonks.  They're both Ministry Aurors."

Harry suddenly realized that someone was missing.  He didn't know exactly how this group worked, but everyone in it was one of Dumbledore's allies.  "Where's Remus?" he asked.

"He was off on another errand today," said Sirius.  "He still should have received Dumbledore's summons, but he must have been in the middle of something too important to leave.  He never showed at Alverbrooke, so I had to come without him."

"How did Percy get in here, anyway?" said Ron.

Hermione came over with Hagrid and sat down next to them.  "He followed me into the common room," she said.  "I didn't know he was there; he was invisible.  When I got inside he lifted the charm and asked where Harry was.  I told him I didn't know.  He called me a liar and said he was at the Quidditch match.  Then he said Harry would come looking for me if I didn't show, and he Stunned me before I could get my wand out."

"Bugger," said Ron.  "Were you scared?"

"Petrified," said Hermione.  "I knew Fudge would try something soon, but not _this _soon."

"So... how did everyone else know what was going on in here?" said Harry.

"Ever since Hermione came ter Dumbledore this mornin', the staff've been on watch," said Hagrid.  "Even the ghosts were in on it.  It was Sir Nicholas who saw yeh and Ron comin' back ter the common room.  He wondered why yeh were back from the game early an' alone, so he went ter Dumbledore's office, where we were all havin' a meetin'."

Harry was about to ask what the meeting was about when Snape came rushing back in with a vial of clear liquid.  "Stand back, Molly," Dumbledore said gently.  Mrs. Weasley reluctantly moved away from her son, and Dumbledore pointed his wand at Percy.  "Enervate!"  Percy's eyelids fluttered open.  When he saw Dumbledore his hand grasped for his wand, but Bellaton brought his foot down on his wrist.  Percy struggled beneath Bellaton, his face twisting into a grimace.

"Finite Incantatem!" said Dumbledore.

Percy immediately stopped moving.  He blinked a few times and gazed up at the headmaster.  "Dumbledore?"  His eyes grew wide.  "I'm free," he whispered.  "Thank God, I'm free!"  Tears began to stream down his face.  Ron looked shocked while his parents seemed both relieved and deeply saddened by turns.  Suddenly Percy's joy gave way to stark terror.  He seized a handful of Dumbledore's robes.  "They're going to do it!" he gasped.  "Please, you must hurry!"

Dumbledore bent down beside him.  "Percy, in order to be certain that we have the truth from you, I need you to drink this," he said, and held out the vial.

"Anything," said Percy.  "You wouldn't believe me otherwise, and I wouldn't blame you."  He hastily uncorked the vial and tossed the contents down his throat.  A few moments passed and his face went slack.

"Who sent you here tonight?" said Dumbledore.

"Minister Fudge."  Percy's voice was just as flat and dead as Barty Crouch's had been in Dumbledore's office one year ago.

"Were you under the Imperius Curse when you arrived at Hogwarts?"

"Partially."

"Who placed you under the Imperius Curse?"

"Minister Fudge."

Professor McGonagall hissed.  Dumbledore's face grew even more somber.  "Is Minister Fudge directly allied with Voldemort?"

"No."  The adults exchanged significant glances at this reply.

"Why did you come here tonight?"

"To capture Harry Potter."

"What does Minister Fudge want with Harry?"

"He is collateral."

"What was he to guarantee?"

"That Celeste Thornby would comply with the Minister's wishes."

Harry and Ron looked at Hermione.  She was staring miserably at the floor.

"What does Minister Fudge want with her?" Dumbledore continued.

"Minister Fudge is giving her the chance to swear fealty to him."

Dumbledore's eyes narrowed.  "What happens if she refuses?"

"She will be executed."

Everyone gasped save Dumbledore and Percy.  Has she been tortured?" asked Dumbledore.

"No," said Percy, and Bellaton let out a sigh of relief that almost sounded like a sob.

"Logically, the threat of physical harm would make her more amenable to swearing."  Harry could hardly believe that the headmaster could talk about such a horrible thing in such a matter-of-fact way.

"The Minister did not wish her damaged."

Dumbledore frowned, and Harry did the same.  What did that mean?

"Why does Minister Fudge want her loyalty?" said Dumbledore.

"He wishes to create his own strike force.  It will not be complete without a Singer," said Percy.

"And this is why she has not been harmed?"

"The Minister wants his force in top condition."

"But if she will not swear, he won't let anyone else have her.  Is that correct?"

"He won't let _you_ have her," Percy replied.

"How long ago were you placed under the Imperius Curse?"

"Two months."

"How long have you been fighting the Imperius Curse?"

"I am not sure."

"Did the Minister suspect that you were fighting it?"

"I don't think so."

"Did you try to hide your recovery?"

"Yes, when my mind was lucid."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, stroking his beard with one hand.  "Where will the execution take place?"

"I don't know," said Percy.

"Then how were you to bring Harry to the Minister?"

"I have a portkey," said Percy.

"Is it activated?"

"No."

"Give it to me."

Percy reached into his robes and pulled out a shining prefect's badge.  Dumbledore tucked it up his sleeve.  "What would have happened to you had you returned without Harry?" he said.

"I would have been punished."

"But the Minister was aware that you might not be able to secure him?"

"If I could not take him without being captured myself, I was to abandon the mission," said Percy.

"By what time were you to have returned, with or without Harry?"

"By thirty minutes past sunset."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked to the windows.  The sun was already sinking low in the sky.

"We're running out of time," Professor McGonagall murmured.

Dumbledore nodded.  "I think this is all we can afford to learn at this time.  Severus, we are going to need the antidote –"

"Wait a minute," said Mr. Weasley.  "I think there are a few more things we need to know."

"Ask," said Dumbledore, "but be quick."

"Why did Fudge place you under the Imperius Curse?" said Mr. Weasley.  His face was rock hard.  Beside him, Mrs. Weasley clasped her hands tightly as if she were afraid of what Percy might say.

"I no longer agreed with his way of thinking, but he wanted me to remain with him."

"What were your plans just before you were cursed?"

"To find my father," said Percy.

"Why?" said Mr. Weasley.

"To tell him what Minister Fudge was planning."

"You publicly turned your back on your family."

"I wished to beg their forgiveness."

Mrs. Weasley burst into tears.  Mr. Weasley opened his mouth as if to say something more, but his face crumpled and he closed it again.  He nodded to Dumbledore, then turned away and put an arm around his wife.  Harry and Hermione looked at Ron but quickly looked away again.  Ron's eyes were red and he was blinking furiously.  Judging from his own experience, Harry didn't think that Ron would want them to watch him shed tears.

"Go ahead, Severus," said Dumbledore.  Snape drew another vial from his robes, uncorked it, and poured the contents down Percy's throat.  Percy blinked a few times and his eyes refocused.  Then he saw his parents.  "Mum?" he said hoarsely.  "Dad?"

Mrs. Weasley flew forward and hugged her son tightly.  Mr. Weasley put his arms around Percy from behind, sandwiching him in.  He murmured something in Percy's ear, and Percy began to cry.  For a few moments everyone was still while Percy sobbed in his parents' embrace.  Ron watched the scene with a conflicted look on his face.  Finally he stood up and shuffled over to the rest of his family.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley loosened their hold on their older son.  "Ron?" Percy sniffed, looking hopefully at his brother.

"You've been a right stupid git," Ron said in a hard voice.

Mrs. Weasley gave Ron a reproachful look, but Percy answered.  "I know," he said simply.  "Will you forgive me?"

Ron stared back at Percy for a moment, and then his face broke into a smile. "'Course I will," he said.  "After all, you are my brother."  He threw an arm around Percy, who responded in kind.

Harry heard Sirius give a great sniff behind him.  Hermione, Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, and the two Aurors were all wiping their eyes.

"Welcome back, Mr. Weasley," said Dumbledore with a warm smile.

"Thank you," said Percy.  "Was I any help to you?"

"You were a very great help," said Dumbledore.  "However, I have something more to ask of you.  With more time I might be able to formulate another plan, but –"

"Tell me what it is," Percy interrupted.  He wiped his eyes vigorously to clear the tears away.

"The Minister is expecting you to return one way or another.  If you do not, he will be suspicious."

"You want me to pretend," said Percy.

"How good of an actor are you?" said Dumbledore.

"Good enough," Percy replied.

"Wait!" said Mrs. Weasley.  "You said you would be punished if you went back without Harry!"

"Cruciatus," said Percy.  "That's what he'll do.  Or rather, Lucius Malfoy will do it."

"Albus!" cried Mrs. Weasley.

"I can do it," Percy said firmly.  "Don't worry, Mum.  It'll only last for a few seconds."

"It'll feel like forever," said Harry.

"I know," said Percy.  "I've experienced it before.  The Minister is becoming less and less patient with those beneath him.  It was Lucius Malfoy who first suggested the use of Cruciatus as a punishment."

Mrs. Weasley began to weep afresh.  "Oh, Percy..."

"It's all right, Mum," said Percy.  "I _have_ to do this.  I've made so many things wrong already.  They're going to do murder, but maybe I can help prevent it."

"They'll kill her even if you don't do this," said Mrs. Weasley.

"But this way we'll have more time," said Dumbledore.  "Harry, can you find Professor Thornby?"

"I can point right to her," said Harry.  "She's far away, though."

"We'll put a Tracer on you, and the rest of the Order can Apparate to it," said Dumbledore.

"What's a Tracer?" said Harry, just as Ron and Hermione said, "What's the Order?"

"The Order of the Phoenix will have to be explained later," said Dumbledore.  "Suffice it to say that a Tracer simply lets certain people find you."

"You know, if Percy's going in, I could volunteer to be Harry," said the pink-haired woman called Tonks.  "Why not make the illusion complete?"  Harry barely had time to wonder what she meant before her body transformed into someone else.  His mouth fell open when he found himself staring at his mirror image.  "I'm a Metamorphmagus.  I can change my appearance to whatever I like," she supplied helpfully.

"No," Dumbledore said firmly.  "Whatever Professor Thornby ultimately decided, Lucius Malfoy and Walden Macnair would never let Harry survive the night.  I won't risk you when it isn't necessary."  No one voiced any further objections, and Dumbledore seemed satisfied.  "Minerva, would you send the message to the others?" he said.  "Tell them to wait until the Tracer has been still for three minutes, and then Apparate to its location."

"Of course," she said, and she quickly left the common room.

"Severus, I think perhaps you had better not come.  We can't risk the Death Eaters finding you out."

"I strongly object, Headmaster," Snape said tartly.  "This conflict will come to blows and you know it.  Where will you be when you need one of my potions?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow.  "If you come, you will not fight.  You will not reveal yourself in any way.  You will stay with Sirius and Harry, _out of sight._"

Sirius harrumphed.  Snape glared in his general direction.  Neither of them said anything, though.

"Very well," said Dumbledore.  "Go collect what you need."  Snape quickly left.

A short time later Harry found himself standing atop the Astronomy tower with Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the adults.  Dumbledore's Order of Merlin medallion, which had been charmed to act as the Tracer, was hanging around his neck on its red ribbon.  Harry was to fly to Professor Thornby's location on his Firebolt accompanied by Bellaton, Sirius, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Tonks, who was back to her old self.  The other adults, with the exception of Percy, were to head for Hogsmeade.  From there they would Apparate to the Tracer's final location.

Dumbledore rapped each of them on the head with his wand.  When Harry was struck, he felt a cool sensation trickle down his body like water dripping off his head.  When he looked back down at himself, he found that his body blended in perfectly with the background, just like Sirius did.

"When the Tracer stops moving, the rest of the Order will arrive," said Dumbledore.  "Don't worry if you don't see us; we will be there, making a perimeter.  Then Percy will use his portkey.  After that, _wait for the signal._"  Everyone nodded.  "You three," said Dumbledore, looking in Harry's direction, "will remain hidden until you are given the all clear.  Is that understood?"

"Yes," said Harry, Sirius, and Snape.

"Then fly swiftly," said Dumbledore.

"Be careful, Harry," said Hermione, and Ron nodded his agreement.

"I will," he said with more conviction than he felt.  He mounted his Firebolt.

"Let's go," said Bellaton.

Harry kicked off from the roof, and the five of them soared away into the setting sun.


	38. Sacrifice

**A/N:** I only want to say three things.  First, the story has passed two hundred reviews, which is super.  Thank you to everyone for your feedback.  Second, I changed the phrase "vide et credere" in Chapter 34 to "vide credeque" per Wolfia's suggestion in order to make it mean what I really wanted.  I had put an author's note at the end of the chapter to say that it meant "see and believe", but somehow it never made it into the posting and I didn't know until now.  Third, brace yourselves.  It's not pretty (sorry, Darak!).

Quill: Not such a bad cliffhanger at the end of this chapter.  It was just time to end the segment.

LovinsomeElrond: You're really sweet!  Thanks for the encouragement!

Darak: I read your new reviews and you have made some excellent points as well.  One of the handicaps of the story is that you see everything from Harry's point of view, and while the adults are filling him in more, he doesn't get to hear everything.  Perhaps this is something I could partially deal with in the "Back Stories" story.  I am also planning to do an overhaul of the story when it is done in an effort to fix loose ends and otherwise improve it.  I will have to take your point of view into consideration, because it is valid.  On another note, I'm planning to keep the story going beyond 5th year.  True, this year has been a lot of "wait and see", but the others won't be like that.  The dark and light sides will have their own distinct victories.

Sherry: Hope this is soon enough for you!  It's a _long_ chapter, too.

Jedi Buttercup: The Order members that were introduced at the beginning of Phoenix largely remain faceless in this chapter, but that's just because a big fight is not the best time for introductions.  :-)  Oh, and you're right to be suspicious!

Raphaelle: The Fudge issue gets resolved right here.

Jemma Blackwell: I agree: Percy was never evil.  He just made some really bad choices.

Kaye: Yep, I am planning to keep going with a sequel, but I'm going to need some time to fully plan it.

Rob: I did notice all three things that you mentioned, and I hope that my answers make sense.  About the short dialogue – it doesn't look _quite_ so odd when the lines are single spaced.  You're very right that Barty Crouch gave lengthier, more informative answers, but I never really understood why.  Crouch didn't want to tell Dumbledore anything, so I would have thought that he'd limit his answers to the barest truth that he could manage.  I thought that Dumbledore would have had to ask very specific questions to get the answers he wanted, which is what I did here.  That might change in the rewrite.  About Ron and Hermione – I know I left that hanging, but that was only because I didn't feel that it was necessary to get into it.  There can be such a thing as too much description, and I thought this fit the bill.  About Percy… it didn't seem important to get into that either, but no, they wouldn't leave him in the Gryffindor common room alone.  Oh, and they're not going to Hogsmeade.  Somehow you managed to infer that, but I never said it.  :-)

Lady Pallas: Thank you for the kind words!  I'm glad you've enjoyed it, and I'm pleased that you feel it was a worthy use of your time.

mscs3: Welcome to the story!  You're coming in right at the tail end.

Chapter 38: Sacrifice

The group of five flew silently in the failing daylight.  Harry was the only person who knew where to go; the rest spread out behind him in a v-shape like a flock of geese.  Harry focused intently on the awareness in his head that was Professor Thornby's location.  Wherever she was, she had stopped moving.

Harry judged that they were more than halfway to their final destination.  He quashed the desire to urge his Firebolt on faster.  The adults behind him were all on school brooms, save Bellaton, who was riding his own broomstick from his school days.  Harry could have easily outstripped them all but Dumbledore had warned him not to do so.  "It is dangerous to send you to the very place Fudge wants you to be," he had said.  "You must keep your guard with you."

Twilight was falling, but the air of late spring was still warm against Harry's face.  It was getting cloudy as they flew on.  Harry thought that the brighter stars should be showing by then, but there was no way to tell in the gathering cloud cover.  The overcast sky mocked him, making it impossible to know how much time they had left.  If they took too long in finding Professor Thornby, Percy would have to use his portkey before time so Fudge wouldn't get suspicious.  If he failed in his act, no one would be there to save him from Malfoy's wrath.

Fortunately for Harry, the adults felt similar concerns.  "Harry," said Bellaton, coming up beside him, "we need to go faster."

"You can't keep up with me," said Harry.

"Not all of us, no.  But I can do a fair job on my Zephyr, as long as you don't fly as fast as you can go.  The rest will follow as best they can.  They can Apparate to you in the end if need be."

Harry needed no further permission.  He leaned forward and the Firebolt punched through the air.  After a minute he looked to his left and was barely able to discern Bellaton's form.  In the gathering darkness, the older man faded almost perfectly into the gray sky.

Professor Thornby was looming larger and larger in Harry's head.  After a few minutes at his faster speed, he dropped his broom closer to the ground.  Beside him, Bellaton did the same.

They were very close now.  Harry had learned to block out the sensations that came from the link between himself and Professor Thornby while they were at Hogwarts.  If he focused on them too much they became a distraction.  Now, however, he welcomed the feeling of proximity.  He drank it in, willing it to get stronger and stronger.

Harry and Bellaton flew around the edge of a small wood.  Harry suddenly pulled his Firebolt to a stop.  In the near distance he saw a cluster of torches illuminating a number of figures standing about.  They had arrived.

Neither Harry nor Bellaton said anything.  They dropped very low to the ground and flew forward as quickly as they dared.  When they reached a small stand of trees about thirty feet from the torches, they dismounted.  The earth beneath their feet was moist and grassy, muffling the sound of their feet.  Thunder rumbled nearby.  From the smell of things, it had rained recently, and it was going to rain again soon.

Harry sat down on the ground next to one of the trees.  He rested his cheek against the trunk, using his hand to cushion his face from the rough bark, and took his first good look at the torchlit gathering.  His heart suddenly crawled into his throat.  There were stone slabs and oddly shaped monuments sticking up here and there.  As Harry looked, the memories of a dead compatriot and a horrible ritual came floating back to him.

"This is it," he whispered.

"What?" said Bellaton.

"It's the graveyard that Cedric and I came to last year," he replied softly.

"Are you sure?" said Bellaton.

"I'll never forget this place."

Bellaton nodded.

Harry wondered at the choice of location.  Percy had said that Fudge wasn't officially in league with Voldemort, and he had been unable to lie.  Most likely Malfoy or Macnair had suggested the spot.  Harry thought he could almost hear them convincing Fudge.  _"It's secluded; it's quiet; it's unexpected.  No one will ever think to look there.  No one will know what happened."_  Whether Fudge knew it or not, his path was crossing Voldemort's in more ways than one.

There was a muted crunch behind them.  "Wotcher, Harry," a voice whispered.

"Tonks?" Harry whispered back.

"In the flesh," she replied.

"We're all here," said Sirius' voice.

"The rest should be Apparating at any moment," Bellaton said softly.  No sooner had he finished speaking than there was a pop nearby followed by several others.  A few moments of silence passed, and then a rustling sound became audible.  Someone was walking toward them through the trees.

"Severus?" Bellaton whispered.

"It is I," Snape replied, stepping out from behind a tree.  Unlike Harry's escort, he was fully visible, but the unrelieved black of his clothing still made him hard to see.

"And the others?" whispered Kingsley.

"Everyone who is coming has already arrived," Snape said softly.  "Where is Black?"

"Right here," Sirius said tersely.

Snape didn't reply, for which Harry was grateful.  He wasn't too thrilled about having to watch the rescue while being accompanied by two people that couldn't hate each other more.  The longer it took for an argument to break out, the better.

No further communication was necessary, so the group grew quiet.  Harry settled himself back against the tree and returned to scrutinizing the graveyard.  He was surprised to see very few people; he had been expecting more.  Fudge was easily visible, pacing back and forth in the center.  Lucius Malfoy and Walden Macnair were standing close by.  Two other people were standing several feet from them, one of whom was very short, but they weren't in the light and Harry couldn't make out their faces.  Even farther away were two figures that were too tall to be human.  _Dementors_, thought Harry.  He wasn't sure, but there seemed to be a smaller figure between them.  _Professor Thornby._

"Where is he?" Fudge suddenly said in an irritated tone.  "What's taking so long?"

Malfoy and Macnair exchanged significant glances.  "Perhaps something has gone amiss," said Malfoy.

"Yes, well, we always have our backup plan," said one of the two nearby figures, stepping up to stand beside Malfoy.  Harry didn't recognize him, but the other adults did.  Sirius hissed softly, and Snape was frowning.

"Fergus Blake," Bellaton said in Harry's ear.

Harry took a good look at the man who had poisoned him.  He was of middling height and was rather heavyset.  His hands were pale and fleshy, as if they had never before performed manual labor.  At that distance Harry couldn't be quite sure, but it seemed as if there was a long scar above one of his eyebrows.

"Five minutes," Fudge announced.  "Then we go for plan B."

Harry didn't think he wanted to know what plan B was.  _Hurry up, Percy!_ he thought.

To his relief, Ron's brother didn't let them down.  He suddenly appeared in the center of the ring grasping the shiny prefect's badge in one hand.

Fudge was incensed almost from the moment he laid eyes on Percy.  "You've returned _alone_?" he snapped.  "Explain yourself!"

Percy looked down at the ground.  "I was unable to get Potter by himself," he said tonelessly.

"You were unable to come up with _any_ diversion that would separate him from the flock?" said Fudge.

"Gryffindor won the Quidditch cup," said Percy.  "His entire House was celebrating together."

"Did Potter never even visit the _bathroom_ alone?"

"I avoided capture and returned at the appointed time, as you ordered," said Percy.

Fudge's lip curled.  "Yes.  Well, you knew the punishment for failure," he said.  He flicked his fingers in Malfoy's direction.  Fudge's back was turned to the Death Eater, so he didn't see the dangerous look that Malfoy shot his way at being so summoned.  Nevertheless, Malfoy stepped forward.  He pointed his wand at Percy, who looked back without flinching.

"_Crucio_!"

Percy screamed and fell to the ground.  He wrapped his arms tightly around himself and folded over until his nose was almost touching the earth.  Harry's heart went out to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley who were somewhere nearby, watching their son undergo the torment.

Malfoy raised his wand and Percy's screams choked off.  He remained as he was for a few seconds, his body heaving as he struggled for breath.  Slowly he unfolded himself and got to his feet.

"You'll do better next time, won't you?" said Fudge as another roll of thunder sounded.

"Y-yes, s-s-sir," Percy stammered.  His body was still shaking, but Harry had to admire the way he had managed to smooth his face.  Fudge waved his hand dismissively and Percy stepped back into the small group of people.

"With or without Potter, we can still proceed," Macnair said harshly.

"Yes," said Malfoy.  "Let's get this over with."  Fudge nodded his acquiescence and stepped away from the center of the circle.  "Bring her," said Malfoy.

One of the tall figures stepped forward into the light.  It was indeed a dementor, and it was leading Professor Thornby in her prison gray.  Both her hands were bound behind her back.  She stared straight ahead as if unable to see what was before her.  The dementor laid one rotting hand on her shoulder and she automatically went to her knees.

Malfoy slowly walked around her several times with a considering look on his face.  All the while she stared straight ahead, and Harry realized that she really couldn't see anything.  He was willing to bet that she couldn't hear anything either, and wouldn't until Malfoy let her.

Malfoy suddenly waved his wand, and Professor Thornby winced and turned her head away.  It was the reaction of a person whose eyes had been in darkness long enough to be blinded by a sudden light.  She blinked a few times and squinted at the people before her.  As her gaze passed over Fudge, Macnair, and Malfoy, her face grew darker and darker.  When she saw Fergus Blake her mouth twisted into a snarl and she lunged forward, only to be restrained by the dementor.

"Temper, temper," said Malfoy silkily.  "I would have thought that ten weeks inside Azkaban would have made you a bit more… mellow."  Professor Thornby glared at him.  "I'm sure you're wondering why you're here," Malfoy continued.  "We have a proposition for you."  Professor Thornby looked away in disgust.  Malfoy pulled a small black box from his robes.  "Wouldn't you like to have this back?"  He flipped the lid up, and the sound of her voice drifted out briefly before he shut it again.  Professor Thornby couldn't help but look longingly at the box, but there was something else on her face – resignation, as if she knew she'd never have it again.

Malfoy stepped closer and held the box right under her nose.  "Swear fealty to Cornelius Fudge, and we will give you back your voice."

Sirius made a low sound in his throat that sounded like a growl.  Harry heard a ripping sound on his other side and saw sod being torn from the ground where Bellaton sat.  A clump of compressed earth fell from the professor's invisible hand.

Professor Thornby stared at Mr. Malfoy in disbelief.  The look on her face plainly said that she had just been insulted in the worst possible way.  She turned up her nose and looked away.

Fergus Blake swooped up to stand before her.  He leaned forward and stretched out one hand to touch her face.  She jerked herself out of reach.  "Come now, my dear," he said in an oily voice.  "Surely you don't value Dumbledore over yourself.  What has he ever done for you?"

"More than you'll ever know," Bellaton whispered harshly.

"He left you to wither away in Azkaban.  Ten weeks you've languished there while he dealt with other more important matters.  What do you think he's been doing all this time?"  Professor Thornby gave him a disdainful look.  "He has been campaigning, my dear.  Campaigning for Minister Fudge's job."

_Liar_, said the look on Professor Thornby's face.

"You think he valued you for your mind?  Your skill with weapons, perhaps?  Or maybe your looks?"  He stretched out a hand to her hair and she jerked away again.  Blake smiled.  "No.  He only ever wanted you for your voice.  _And you haven't got it anymore._"

Professor Thornby closed her eyes and turned away.

"Don't listen to him," Bellaton whispered.

"Yes," said Blake.  "You know it for truth.  In your current condition you're no longer valuable to Albus Dumbledore."  He spoke the headmaster's name with loathing.  "Believe me, all he wants is power, and people are only useful to him as long as they help him get it."

Professor Thornby looked back at Blake.  She raised her chin again and gave him her most arrogant stare, silently calling his words the lies that they were.  Blake narrowed his eyes at her, but he said no more.

"Can we take that as a refusal of our proposal?" said Malfoy.  Professor Thornby turned her frosty glare on him.  "Perhaps you require more… incentive," he continued, looking back at Fudge.  The Minister had not said a word the whole time, but he nodded to Malfoy.  "Bring him forward!" snapped the Death Eater.

From out of the darkness came the second dementor.  As it reached the edge of the torchlight Harry could see that it was dragging something beside it.

"Remus," breathed Sirius.

It _was_ Lupin, who seemed overpowered by the dementor's presence.  Professor Thornby stared, horrified, as the dementor dragged him in front of her and dropped him on the ground like a sack before gliding back into the darkness again.  She looked from Lupin to Malfoy with her eyes full of fear, all trace of defiance gone.

"You want to know what we've done to him," Mr. Malfoy said softly.  A smile played about his lips.  "He wouldn't come willingly, of course, so we had to soften him up a bit with the Cruciatus Curse."

Lupin moaned from his place on the ground.  Fudge nodded again, and Macnair strode forward.  He seized Lupin and pulled him up to his knees.  Harry could see that his hands were bound behind his back just as his guardian's were.

"Now, then," said Mr. Malfoy.  "We'll give you one last chance.  Swear fealty, or we'll end his miserable existence."  Macnair put one muscled arm around Lupin's neck and pulled a long, silvery knife from his belt.

Professor Thornby stared at Lupin with wide eyes.  "Don't do it, Celeste!" said Lupin, his voice tight beneath Macnair's stranglehold.

"Everyone saw you at the Gala together," said Fergus Blake smoothly, walking around the two prisoners in a slow circle.  "You're in love; it's more than plain.  Ah, but love is such a beautiful thing."

"Don't listen!" Lupin grated.  Professor Thornby looked ready to cry.

"Can you really condemn your heart's desire to his death?" said Blake in sinuous tones.

Professor Thornby shook her head again, but what exactly she was refusing, Harry couldn't tell.

"You can save him," oozed Blake.  "_Just swear._"

"They'll kill me anyway!" cried Lupin.  Macnair tried to get a hand over his mouth, but Lupin fought to keep shouting.  "Do your duty!  This isn't your choice!"

"Give your answer," hissed Mr. Malfoy.

Professor Thornby looked at Lupin with her eyes full of tears.  Macnair had succeeded in silencing Lupin, but his eyes were still speaking volumes.  She suddenly turned her head and stared straight at Harry's hiding place.  _She knows we're here!_ Harry thought.  He had completely forgotten that she would be able to sense him as plainly as he could sense her.  Her eyes silently pleaded for intervention.

"Answer!" Malfoy shouted.  He strode over to Lupin and backhanded him across the face.

Harry saw red.  He seized his wand and struggled to move forward against Bellaton's much stronger restraining grip.  On his other side, Sirius' breathing sounded labored.

"Stay put until we get the signal!" Bellaton hissed angrily.

"Why are we waiting?" Harry whispered harshly.  "She knows we're here!  She doesn't understand why we don't help her!"

"Dumbledore is in control," Bellaton whispered back.  "Trust him."

Cornelius Fudge stepped forward out of the shadows until he was standing in front of Professor Thornby.  "Well?" he said, bending over to look her in the eye.

Professor Thornby's sad expression transformed into a glare.  She stared at Fudge for a moment, and then spat in his face.

Fudge clapped one hand to his cheek and reared up with a roar.  "Kill them both!"

Malfoy grabbed Professor Thornby's shoulders roughly to prevent her from rising.  Macnair raised his knife, but Lupin had begun to fight like a tiger at Fudge's proclamation, and the executioner was struggling to get him under control.  Harry could hardly breathe.  Whatever the headmaster was waiting for, time was up.

"Hold, Walden!" said a cold, high voice.  Harry's eyes flew open as wide as they could go, and he grabbed at Sirius.

"What?" Sirius whispered, but as soon as he saw Harry's face he looked back to the graveyard.  He said nothing more as a tall man with too-tight skin and red, serpentine eyes stepped into the light.

Lupin stopped fighting and stared at the new arrival.  Professor Thornby's eyes were wide, but she remained still.  Fudge looked as if someone had dropped a safe on his head.  His face was the color of cold ash.

"Well done, Cornelius," said Voldemort, stepping toward Fudge.  "You have become everything I hoped you would be."

Fudge looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.  "This can't be," he whispered.

Voldemort laughed, and Harry's skin crawled at the sound.  "But it is," he said.  "Under the tutelage of my most faithful servants, you have done great work in my service."  Malfoy and Macnair preened under Voldemort's praise.

"Your service?" Fudge whispered.  "Never!  I wanted –"

"Exactly what I wanted," Voldemort interrupted.  "Your work to undermine Dumbledore has been invaluable to our cause."

"But he…" stammered Fudge.  "You…"

"You didn't want to believe that I existed," said Voldemort.  "But I've been directing you all year, Cornelius - whispering in your ear.  And look how well you've turned out!  You let Lucius and Walden bring Fergus along on this little expedition while leaving your own supporters behind, even when you knew that he practiced the Dark Arts.  I just heard you order the deaths of two people for nothing less than the defiance of your will.  You could be great among the Death Eaters."

"No!" cried Fudge, backing away.

"We have a common enemy – Dumbledore," said Voldemort seductively.  "Join with me, and you will be Minister of Magic for the rest of your long life.  Refuse, and you will share their fate."  He pointed at Lupin and Professor Thornby on the ground.

Fudge looked between Voldemort and the prisoners.  Indecision flickered across his face.

"Pity you couldn't convince our little professor to swear to you," said Voldemort.  "Kill her first, Rodolphus.  After all, you did an excellent job with her parents."

An emaciated figure with dark, stringy hair stepped into the light.  Fudge stared in horror at the freed convict.  "He… he should be in Azkaban!"

"I paid a visit to the prison tonight," said Voldemort.  "The faithful are free and eager to do my work."  He beckoned with one white hand and more than two dozen shadowy figures drifted to the edge of the torchlight, all hooded and cloaked.  Fudge's eyes bulged and his mouth worked silently.

An insane light was in the freed Death Eater's eyes as he raised his wand.  Lupin was struggling again, but Macnair was holding him down.  The uncertainty on Fudge's face seemed to be vanishing.  He compressed his lips and balled his hands into fists.

"An impoverished werewolf and a silent Singer," said Voldemort.  "Useless, like two flightless birds.  The world will be well rid of you."

Rodolphus Lestrange opened his mouth.  Professor Thornby closed her eyes.

Percy stepped forward with his wand outstretched and determination on his face.

"No!" shouted Fudge, and he threw himself bodily at the would-be murderer.

A phoenix's cry sounded in the night.  It shimmered in the air for a moment as Fudge and Rodolphus hit the ground and Percy cried, "_Stupefy_!"

Dumbledore's allies rushed forward from all around the circle of torches.  Harry felt air swish through his hair as Tonks, Kingsley, and Bellaton leapt into action.  His own muscles were tensed and ready to propel him forward, but Sirius and Snape each put a hand on one of his shoulders to keep him down.  Their grips were rock hard, and Harry knew that they were longing to join the fray.

Voldemort reacted to Percy's spell with impossible speed, deflecting it with a shield.  The hooded Death Eaters ran forward to meet the oncoming members of the Order.  Just before the two groups clashed Harry saw Percy go down, struck by a jet of light from Malfoy's wand.

The relative quiet of the countryside was broken by the sound of people shouting.  Brilliant streaks of light seared the darkness as spells flew everywhere.  Macnair let go of Lupin and lurched to his feet, drawing his wand.  Malfoy had let go of Professor Thornby entirely, who had thrown herself flat on the ground to avoid being hit by the flying curses.  Lupin crawled to the remains of a broken headstone and frantically began moving his wrists back and forth over the jagged stone in an effort to cut his bonds.

Like the moment he had first seen Snape run through with a sword, Harry was keenly aware of the smallest details around him even though a battle was raging before his eyes.  Grass prickled beneath his fingers, and the smell of damp earth filled his nostrils.  Even though the sound of shouting was everywhere, he could still hear Sirius' breathing.

Order members and Death Eaters alike ducked behind tombstones to avoid being struck by spells.  Jets of light blasted the monuments apart and bits of stone flew everywhere.  Every now and then someone would scream for a few seconds before stopping; the Death Eaters were being free with their use of Cruciatus.  Most of the Order members were unfamiliar to Harry, but he recognized Mad-Eye Moody, who was locked in a duel with one of the Death Eaters.  Harry could see the pink-haired Tonks exchanging hexes with a pale-haired, black-robed woman.  Macnair fired a spell into a seemingly empty space, but Bellaton suddenly appeared, the Disillusionment Charm banished.  In a heartbeat he had turned his wand into a staff and lunged at his surprised opponent.  Kingsley was still nowhere to be seen.  Mrs. Weasley was prowling around the perimeter, firing an occasional, well-placed hex at her enemies.

Mr. Weasley was near the center of the fight.  To Harry's horror, he saw that his best friend's father was facing none other than Voldemort himself.  The motionless forms of three Order members already lay at the dark wizard's feet.  Harry watched as Mr. Weasley fired a curse at Voldemort, who deflected it easily and retaliated.  Mr. Weasley was quick, but the force of the spell knocked him off his feet.  He rolled and fired another curse at Voldemort.  Voldemort barely avoided it, but he recovered quickly, and Harry saw Mr. Weasley's wand fly from his hand and into Voldemort's grasp.  The dark wizard leered down at Mr. Weasley in triumph and pointed his wand.

"No!" Harry cried, unable to stop himself.

Something struck the Dark Lord and he went sprawling, dropping the stolen wand in the process.  Professor Thornby was standing where Voldemort had been, holding a staff in both hands.  With one end she flicked Mr. Weasley's wand back to its owner.

Voldemort sprang to his feet, eyes ablaze.  He opened his mouth to curse Harry's guardian but the words never came out.  He had seen Dumbledore, who was striding toward him with Professor McGonagall and Hagrid at his side.  Voldemort's lips pursed petulantly as he watched them approach.  Dumbledore's face was something to behold.  Harry had only seen him truly angry once before, and that was last year when he foiled Barty Crouch's attempt to kill Harry.  Now he was radiating the same aura of power and strength, and Voldemort sensed it, too.

Without a word the two wizards began firing curses at each other.  Professor McGonagall took up a position behind Dumbledore, searching every which way in an attempt to guard his back.  Hagrid scooped up a wand from a fallen wizard and fell in beside her.

Somewhere in the graveyard, a voice raised itself in song.  Harry wasn't certain, but it sounded like John Grayson, the Singer who had attacked Ron.  A few scant seconds passed before Bellaton began to Sing as well.  The two voices blended together in a sort of dueling Song, each one striving for greater power and volume.  They made a sort of odd harmony, but each half was clearly trying to subdue the other.  More voices joined in, but Harry couldn't be sure if there were more Singers involved or if the two were just splitting their own voices.  It wasn't long before the urgent music drowned out most of the shouting.  Lightning flashed, and Harry saw the two Singers standing on opposite ends of the graveyard, flinging curses at each other that no one else could conjure.

Most of the witches and wizards who were still standing were now fighting one on one with an opponent.  A wide space had cleared around Dumbledore and Voldemort, who were throwing spells at each other the like of which Harry had never seen before.  Professor McGonagall and Hagrid were still bringing up the rear, cursing anyone who tried to hit Dumbledore in the back with a spell.  Two Death Eaters had taken up similar positions on Voldemort's behalf.  Professor Thornby and Lupin were fighting back to back.  She was still wielding her staff, using it to defend as much as to attack.  Lupin was throwing the jinxes and hexes that she couldn't utter.

Amid all the cacophonous noise, Harry suddenly realized that Snape and Sirius were speaking.  What was more, they were doing it in volumes greater than their normal speaking tones.

"I still say we should stay put!" said Sirius.

"It's not going as well as it should!" Snape retorted.  "What good will it do anyone if my double-agent status remains undiscovered but Dumbledore falls?"

They were arguing.  Harry had no idea how long it had been going on; he had been transfixed by the scene before him.  He looked at Snape and saw that he was glaring past Harry at where Sirius would be standing.  Harry knew that Sirius would be glaring back at Snape just as hard.

"Be quiet!" Harry hissed.  "We're hiding, remember?"  He fully expected Snape to give him the rough side of his tongue for speaking so impertinently, but Sirius never gave him the chance.

"He won't fall," Sirius snapped.  "And I think the battle isn't going quite so badly!"

"I know how these people operate better than you do!" Snape replied angrily.  "They're just getting warmed up.  Once they truly start using the Killing Curse –"

"_Aperio_!" shouted a voice from very close by.  Harry jumped in surprise.  Sirius was suddenly visible on his right side, stripped of the Disillusionment Charm.

Harry was just reaching for his wand when the voice shouted, "_Immobulus_!"  Harry instantly felt his body turn to stone.  His hand was frozen in the act of reaching for his pocket; try as he might, he could inch it no further.  His eyes were still able to search, and he quickly spotted their attacker.  Lucius Malfoy's long, white-blond hair was glimmering in the shadows.

"Sirius!" Harry cried, and found that he could still speak though his limbs would not move.

Malfoy pounced on them in a flurry of black.  Snape was so taken by surprise that the curse he managed to fire off went wide.  While the Potions Master was rebounding, Malfoy took aim and shouted, "_Stupefy_!"  Snape crumpled to the ground.

"_Funiscolo_!" Sirius shouted, and silvery ropes shot from his wand and wrapped themselves around Malfoy, stopping him cold.

Another shape darted from the shadows toward Sirius.  Harry shouted warning but he was too late.  The figure collided with his godfather from behind.  Sirius' eyes went wide and his mouth fell open with a gasp of pain.

"Did you miss me, cousin?" hissed the woman who had Sirius locked in a deadly embrace.

_Cousin?_Harry thought wildly.

She pulled her hand away from Sirius' side, and Harry saw a blade in her hand, stained crimson.  Sirius' legs gave way and he collapsed with a whimper.

The woman waved her wand and Malfoy's bonds vanished.  "Well done, Bellatrix," he said, picking himself up off the ground.  "Our master will be most pleased with you."

Harry's heart was racing.  His mouth was filled with a bitter taste that he couldn't explain.  His godfather was badly injured and he was unable to help him, being totally defenseless against Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange.

Bellatrix gave Harry a feral smile.  Her eyes were big, dark, and hungry – the eyes of a predator.  "It's been so long," she whispered, licking her lips.

Malfoy smiled indulgently at her.  "There's no reason you can't have a little fun before the end," he said.  "You can deal with Severus next, the traitor."

Harry was thoroughly terrified now.  The sounds of battle still floated through the air from nearby, but he doubted anyone would think about him.  The Order members were too busy just staying alive, and Sirius and Snape were both wizards who were more than capable.  They had no reason to suspect that Harry was in very grave danger.

Bellatrix smiled wider, revealing two rows of gleaming white teeth.  Harry squeezed his eyes shut and set his jaw.  "_Crucio_," she said in reverent tones.

Nothing happened.

Flogged on by the painful thudding of his heart, Harry opened his eyes a crack.  Bellatrix was standing with a look of utter shock on her face.  A split second later it was replaced by fury.  She thrust her wand forward and tried again.  "_Crucio_!" she shouted.  Harry felt a stab of pain in his head and shoulders and couldn't help exhaling sharply.  Bellatrix was incensed when nothing more happened, and she fairly screamed as she cast the spell one more time.  Harry felt something more; a raging headache began to hammer at his skull.  It did hurt, but it was nothing compared to what he knew he should be feeling.

"It's working!" Malfoy said, and Bellatrix raised her wand again.

"_Stupefy_!" bellowed two voices, and both Death Eaters fell.

Hagrid lowered his wand as Mrs. Weasley fired another spell at Harry.  "_Liberati_!"

Harry stumbled as feeling returned to his limbs, and Hagrid caught him.  "Are yeh all right?" said the half-giant anxiously.

Harry ignored his pounding headache.  "She stabbed Sirius!" he gasped.  Hagrid let go and dropped to his knees beside Sirius.  Harry leaned against a nearby tree for support; he felt as if his legs would give way at any moment.

"_Enervate_!" said Mrs. Weasley, rousing Snape.

"Professor Snape!" Hagrid said urgently.

Snape quickly made his way to Sirius.  He felt at the fallen man's side and his fingers came away red.  In an instant he had reached inside his robes and pulled out a long vial of thick green liquid.  He unstoppered it, smeared some on his fingers, and spread it against the cut.  After a few moments he checked Sirius' side with his other hand and found no blood.

Sirius stirred and opened his eyes.  He blinked up at the adults for a few moments, and then fear filled his eyes as remembrance returned.  "Harry!"  He tried to rise, but his gasp of anxiety turned into a groan.

"Take it easy, Sirius!" said Mrs. Weasley just as Harry said, "I'm right here."

"Are you all right?" Sirius said quickly.

"Headache," said Harry, rubbing his forehead.  "Cruciatus."

"Cruciatus!" cried Sirius.

"It didn't work," said Harry.  "All I got was this migraine.  I don't understand."

Snape suddenly lifted his head and stared off into the distance.  He looked like a wolf that had scented meat on the wind.  "It's quiet," he said, and Harry realized that he was right.

"It's over," sighed Mrs. Weasley.

"You're certain?" said Snape.

"Aye," said Hagrid.  "They're gone."

Something made Harry's ears prick up.  "Listen!" he said, and everyone stopped talking.  They all heard it.  It was the sound of someone weeping.

"Time to pay the butcher's bill," Snape said darkly.  He stood up, and Hagrid helped Sirius to his feet.  Mrs. Weasley bound the two unconscious Death Eaters and levitated them for transport.

The five of them left the trees for the graveyard, moving slowly for Sirius' benefit.  The torches were still burning, illuminating the fallen forms of witches and wizards.  Order members were reviving some of them while others were left alone.  "How many dead?" Harry heard one of them say.

"Five of ours by my count, and who knows how many wounded," another replied.  "There are at least four dead Death Eaters, too."

"And where does Fudge fall in?  Our side or theirs?" said the first voice.

"Who knows?" said the other.

The four adults walking with Harry exchanged uncertain glances.  All Harry could feel was numbness and the throbbing in his head.  _Fudge was dead._

The weeping sound was coming from center of the circle.  A few Order members had converged around its source and more were coming.

"What's happened?" Hagrid said loudly, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was visible once more, moved to let them see.

"Oh, no," breathed Sirius, and Mrs. Weasley gasped aloud.  Two heavy thuds sounded behind her as she let Malfoy and Bellatrix fall.

Lupin was sitting on the ground, cradling Professor Thornby in his arms.  Her wide, blue eyes stared up at the sky.  Lupin was sobbing into her hair.

Harry's breath stopped for an instant until he saw that she was moving.  But even then, it was enough to chill his blood.  She was twitching visibly in Lupin's arms.  One of her hands was tensed until her fingers looked like claws.  Harry could see furrows in the earth that had been raked by her nails.

Dumbledore burst into the circle followed by Bellaton and Professor McGonagall.  He went straight to the pair on the ground.  He took one of Professor Thornby's hands in his own and looked into her eyes.  His own face was hardened with shock and concern.  "Cruciatus," he said brusquely.  "I don't understand.  She looks as if she's been under it for some time, not for a minute or two only!"

"Did you try _Finite Incantatem_?" said a witch.

"It didn't work," said Kingsley.

"She's still cursed?" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley.

Bellaton suddenly looked wide-eyed at Harry, who was holding his aching head in his hands.  He quickly pointed his wand at him and shouted, "_Finite Incantatem_!"

Harry's headache vanished.  Professor Thornby stopped trembling.

Everyone turned to stare at Bellaton.  "Ardoc, what –" began Kingsley.

Mad-Eye Moody seemed to have understood already.  "She took his punishment," he murmured in his familiar gravelly voice.

"What?  Whose punishment?" said Tonks.

"She took Harry's punishment!" Bellaton shouted, and everyone jumped at the sudden volume.

"But it didn't work," Harry heard himself saying in disbelief.  "Bellatrix Lestrange – she cast Cruciatus on me – but almost nothing happened!"

"No," Bellaton said harshly.  "It worked.  You hardly felt it, but she did.  She is your guardian."

Harry felt sick as he began to realize what had happened.  Bellatrix Lestrange had cursed him no less than three times, thinking that the spell had failed, not realizing that she'd layered it all on another.

"The connection doesn't work that way," said Professor McGonagall.

"She must have altered it," said Bellaton.  "I should have guessed it.  I should have known."

"Don't beat yourself up, lad," said Moody.  "From what I've heard, the woman always made her own choices."

"A change in the connection would have required physical contact with Harry," said Dumbledore.  "He would have felt something."

All eyes turned to Harry.  He stared straight ahead, frowning as he tried to remember…

_The Ministry Gala._  Just before Professor Thornby had removed Grayson's curse, she had touched Harry's arm.  Harry remembered the flash of heat and her attempt to communicate with her eyes.  He never had guessed what had happened.

The Order members began murmuring as recognition dawned on Harry's face.  Some of them still seemed to be having trouble believing what had happened.

Professor McGonagall reached down and plucked a single blade of grass.  "_Punctusinta_," she said, and with a wave of her wand, she Transfigured the blade into a thin sewing needle.  "Give me your hand, Potter," she said.  Harry balked.  "If our theory is correct, you won't feel it, and I doubt she will, either," she said.

Harry stretched out his hand.  Professor McGonagall quickly pricked his fourth fingertip with the needle.  She squeezed his finger gently, but nothing happened.  Then she bent down, took Professor Thornby's left hand, and carefully applied pressure to her fourth finger.  A tiny bead of blood formed.

"There's your proof," said Mr. Weasley.  He looked almost awestruck as he gazed down.

"We have to get her to St. Mungo's," Dumbledore said tersely.  "She needs medical attention."  Harry looked at the headmaster.  He looked just as angry as he had minutes ago while striding toward Voldemort.

"Come, Remus," Professor McGonagall said gently, placing a hand on Lupin's arm.  "Let her go."

"No," he sobbed, clutching Professor Thornby even closer.

"Yeh have to," Hagrid said quietly.

"I… I can't…"

"Remus," Sirius said gravely, and Lupin raised his head to look at his friend.  "Keep holding on and there'll be no chance at all."

Lupin's head drooped, but he nodded reluctantly and allowed Hagrid to scoop Professor Thornby up.  It was only then that Harry saw that Lupin was hurt himself.  Both his arms were crisscrossed with vile burns, but Lupin barely seemed aware of them.

"Who is wounded?" Dumbledore said loudly.

Two Order members shuffled forward, their steps dragging.  "We've got the badly injured together, Albus," said one of them.

"Thank you, Sturgis," said Dumbledore.  "Anyone with minor injuries, stay with the captured and the dead.  I will return shortly."  He turned to Harry, Sirius, Remus, and Hagrid.  "Come," he said.  "You too, Molly.  And get Professor Thornby's voice; Lucius Malfoy should still have it."

"_Accio_ voice," said Mrs. Weasley, pointing her wand at the Death Eater, who was still unconscious.  There was a ripping sound and the small black box tore from the fabric of Malfoy's robes.  It soared into Mrs. Weasley's hand and she pocketed it.

They followed Dumbledore to a group of witches and wizards who were sitting on the ground.  One was unconscious, two were sporting some nasty wounds, and the fourth was gasping for air.  "Sturgis?" said Dumbledore.

"Right," said Sturgis, and he placed a hand on two of the wounded.  There was a pop, and they Disapparated.  The other witch who had come forward did the same.

Harry looked around as the Order members were vanishing.  Two wizards, one of whom was Percy, were making a small row of bodies nearby.  Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating their still faces.  Cornelius Fudge was lying at the near end.  Thunder answered the bolt of lightning.

Harry felt a cool, wet _splat_ on the tip of his nose.  Another drop of rain landed atop his head, and another struck one of the panes of his glasses, distorting Fudge's face.  More followed as it began to rain steadily.

"Take my hand, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said softly.

Harry numbly took it.  He heard another loud crack and saw a blinding flash of white.  He blinked, trying to clear the spots before his eyes, and found himself standing in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.


	39. Aftermath

**A/N:** We're very close to the end of the story now.  I'm not sure exactly how many chapters are left, but obviously there's not much of the fifth year left.  As always, many thanks to everyone who reviewed!  I had quite a response after the last chapter.

Jedi Buttercup: Always a pleasure to hear from you.  Hmm… I don't think I mention any more of the dead in this chapter (anyone 'important' will be named in the next).  Nobody besides Lucius and Bellatrix saw Snape with Sirius, which is good news for him, but they're still two people too many!  And yes, someone is taking charge of the captive Death Eaters until Dumbledore gets back.

athenakitty: Fudge is dead.  I hope you're happy… you seemed to want him to kick the bucket!

Rob: Ah, now I see where you were going with the Hogsmeade thing.  You are perfectly right – they would have had to go somewhere to Apparate, and Hogsmeade is a logical choice.  It wasn't really the eye contact at the Gala that made the difference – it was physical contact (she put a hand on Harry's arm).  Knowing that she was about to reveal a secret that could get her into trouble, she went ahead and made a decision.  I get into how certain people feel about that a little bit here, but there'll be more later.

krysalys73: Crap and blast!  Welcome!  It doesn't sound like you got much sleep while reading this story.  In answer to a few of your statements – no, I have never heard of Mercedes Lackey, so any similarities between her character and mine would be a coincidence.  I may ask you if I can use your exploding underwear idea.  No, you didn't irritate me with your reviews!  I love to read them, and yours were really encouraging.  You are right, the passing reference to Vernon Dursley was not an accident.  Oh, and if you feel that you might be plagiarizing me, just let me know what you're planning to do – I doubt it's as big a deal as you think it is.  Now, if you decided to say "here are Ardoc Bellaton and Celeste Thornby, my two O.C.s!!!", _that_ would be plagiarism.  ;-)  Oh, and I hate cleaning the litter box, too.

cyd.t: Thanks for the heads-up!  I really do appreciate it when people point those things out.  Hmm… I thought I double-checked the books for Gryffindor's Quidditch record, but I guess I didn't.

Jemma Blackwell: Harry didn't really get to see how things turned out.  Lucius and Bellatrix distracted him, and afterward there were more important things for him to think about than what happened to Voldemort (if he'd been vanquished, it wouldn't have needed to be said).  Dumbledore makes a brief reference to what happened to Voldemort in this chapter.

Sherry: See above (Jemma Blackwell's answer).  I'm glad I'm keeping you interested!

Darak: I think you may have missed one or two crucial lines when reading the chapter.  I know that when I read, I frequently do just that.  Fudge is dead, so he's taken about a big a fall as you can have.  To tell the truth, I'm not quite sure how the captured Death Eaters will be handled, but Bellatrix and Lucius aren't going to be executed.  They're too interesting to knock off with two years left to go.  The idea of capital punishment also brings up the question of what that veil in Phoenix is really used for; I know that the room as a death chamber is a popular idea, and the description does seem to fit.

Wytil: As I mentioned to Darak… Malfoy's not going to die yet.  He still has evil left to do.

LovinsomeElrond: I figure that yes, she did it using wandless magic.  Any important dead people will get named in the next chapter (even Dumbledore hasn't got the final count yet) and Harry isn't going back to the battleground to see for himself.

Quill: Harry wouldn't have been allowed to go at all except for the fact that only he could find where the execution was supposed to take place.  As Dumbledore observed, sending him to the one place Fudge wanted him to be was very risky.  Yes, he is going to have to work on his fighting skills.  Harry has had the bad luck to have been taken by surprise in his last few encounters with the Death Eaters, but he's not helpless.  He'll get to see his fair share of action in the future.

Haunting Darkness: I'm glad you like the story, but… what?

PhoenixTearsp322: Hope you got caught up, because 'Fudgie' _is_ dead.  Oh, and thanks for telling me how you got your name!

totallystellar: You're not the only person who didn't like the fact that Harry didn't fight.  Sorry.  I agree – what Prof. Thornby did bothers me too, and it bothers Harry, and it bothers Dumbledore…  Are there going to be consequences because of what she did?  Yes, but I am a great believer in the power of friendship, selflessness, and sacrificial love.  "Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:13).  From the Bible, yes, but whether you call it your holy book or not, this phrase rings true everywhere.  How was Voldemort defeated the first time?  Through Lily Potter's love for her son.  This should give everyone an idea of exactly how he can be defeated again.  And thank you for the dust – it is always appreciated!

Kaye: Heck yeah, Harry and Voldemort will face off.  Just not in this story!

Chapter 39: Aftermath

Harry had never been to St. Mungo's before, but even if he hadn't been told that it was his destination, he would have guessed what it was.  He had been to a Muggle hospital before when Dudley choked on a cookie he hadn't chewed enough.  This place had the same cool, sterile feel as the other.

The group was standing in a waiting room of some sort.  There was no exit from it save a row of fireplaces behind them.  The walls were painted pastel blue and green and they were lined with soft armchairs.  Two were in use, and their occupants gaped at the disheveled arrivals.

A large desk sat at the end of the room, blocking the way to the rest of the hospital.  A tidy witch in white was sitting behind it, but she jumped up when the group appeared.  "Good heavens!" she exclaimed.  "Marcia!"

Another witch in white popped around the corner and jumped at the sight of the wet, grim crowd.  "Oh, my," she said, and motioned them to follow her.  "Come!  Come this way!"

They followed her out of the waiting room and into a whitewashed corridor with an arched ceiling.  Silvery lamps that glowed with an ethereal light lined the walls.  The witch was shouting names, and matrons and healers came running from all directions.  They faltered one and all at the sight of Dumbledore with his face like stone, but they quickly recovered and began asking questions.  One by one, the injured were siphoned off.  The unconscious Order member went first followed by the witch who couldn't breathe, taken off down a side corridor with Sturgis' companion.  The two bloodied wizards were led away next, and Sturgis stayed with them.  That left Sirius, Lupin, and Professor Thornby, but when a healer tried to lead Lupin away, he staunchly refused.  "I'm staying with the others," he said.  "You can treat us all in the same room, can't you?"  The healer didn't look as if she liked this much, but she went along with it.

Healer Bigelow had fallen into step beside Dumbledore.  "Have you taken hurt?" he said.

"No," said Dumbledore.

"You'll forgive me if I don't believe you," said Bigelow.

"Fitzwilliam –"

"I won't be denied," said Bigelow, and he began moving his wand around Dumbledore like a scanner as they walked.  He was still scanning when a matron led them all into a large room with several beds.

"All of you take one," said the matron.

"Some of us aren't hurt too bad," said Hagrid, but the matron would have none of it.

"_All _of you," she repeated firmly.

Hagrid carefully laid Professor Thornby down and took a seat on the mattress next to hers.  It creaked dangerously under his weight.  Healer Bigelow had finished with Dumbledore and went to her side.  He began checking her with his wand, and it wasn't long before he was focusing almost entirely on her head.

A bevy of matrons and healers poured into the room and began examining every single member of the bedraggled group.  Harry found himself being poked and prodded, but the hands of the healer were gentle.  He was still feeling numb enough to just sit still and let the healer do his work without protesting.

"I am Healer Murphy," said the young man as he used his wand to shine a light in Harry's eyes.  "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," Harry said truthfully.

"You endured Cruciatus?" said Healer Murphy.

"Not really," said Harry.

Healer Murphy frowned.  "What do you mean, not really?"

"Brian," said Bigelow over his shoulder, "don't worry about it just now."  Brian Murphy pursed his lips, but he didn't press Harry any more.  Once he was satisfied that Harry really was uninjured, he moved on to help another healer apply a salve to Lupin's burned arms.

In short order most of the work was done.  Lupin's arms were bandaged, Sirius' side had been properly mended, and they had both been made to drink an array of potions.  It seemed that Bigelow had been right about Dumbledore, who was sporting a bandage of his own on his right hand.  Professor Thornby was the only person left, and the healers and matrons congregated around her bed, whispering to each other with concerned faces.  The longer they went on, the darker Lupin's face grew.

Bigelow cleared his throat loudly.  "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "I believe I can take it from here."  The others nodded respectfully and exited the room, still discussing the patient as they left.

Bigelow picked up one of Professor Thornby's hands, which was still arched and tense, and began to massage it.  "What is the body count?" he said quietly.

"Five Order members, four Death Eaters, and Cornelius Fudge," said Dumbledore.  He was sitting straight and still on the edge of his bed, still radiating an aura of power and command.  "Those numbers may go up; I could not stay to be sure."

Bigelow stopped massaging Professor Thornby's hand for a moment.  "Cornelius is dead?"

"Avada Kedavra, from the looks of it," said Dumbledore.  "Rodolphus probably got the upper hand in the end."

Bigelow's stare grew even harder.  "Rodolphus _Lestrange_?"

"Azkaban has been emptied of the Death Eaters," said Dumbledore, "and I imagine that most of the dementors have gone as well."

"Heaven preserve us," Bigelow murmured.

"Cornelius did the right thing in the end," said Dumbledore.  "Voldemort gave him an ultimatum – join his ranks or die – and Cornelius attacked Rodolphus before he could perform the Killing Curse on Celeste."

"It doesn't erase his past sins," Sirius said darkly.

"No," said Dumbledore, "but for his sake, I am grateful.  He was a decent man at heart who allowed visions of power to lead him away from the straight and narrow.  I would have been grieved indeed if he had completely succumbed to its lure, but he threw it off at the last.  There are no few men in history who have come to such a crossroads and given themselves over to evil entirely."

"I take it Voldemort gave you that gash on your hand," said Bigelow, focusing his attention back on Professor Thornby's fingers.

"It is less than I gave him," said Dumbledore.  "When he saw that he was losing the fight, he Disapparated, and his followers quickly did the same."

"Cowards," sneered Sirius.

"Maybe," said Dumbledore, "but it also kept them alive to do battle another day.  That is what one does when losing a fight like this; one retreats.  I never expected this to be the final confrontation."

"There," said Bigelow, putting down Professor Thornby's hand and picking up the other.  "She is starting to relax a bit.  Her muscles are horribly cramped.  This is obviously the work of Cruciatus, but the effects in this case are unusual.  Somebody tell me what happened."

"Harry?" said Dumbledore.

The headmaster's voice was like steel.  Harry wondered if he was angry with him, but though his voice was hard, his eyes were mild as they looked at him.  "Well," Harry said reluctantly, "Sirius, Professor Snape and I were ambushed by Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange."

"How is it that they were able to sneak up on you?" said Dumbledore.  "Severus and Sirius were there to ensure that this very thing did not happen."

Harry looked uncertainly at Sirius, but his godfather merely nodded for him to continue.  "They… they were arguing about whether or not they needed to help with the battle," he said.

Dumbledore inhaled sharply through his nose.  To his credit, Sirius managed to meet Dumbledore's icy blue gaze without flinching.  "What happened next?" Dumbledore said coldly.

"Malfoy got rid of Sirius' Disillusionment Charm.  Then he cursed me so I couldn't move.  Sirius and Professor Snape fought back, but Snape got Stunned and Bellatrix stabbed Sirius.  Then Bellatrix said…"

Harry trailed off and collected himself.  Thinking about what had suddenly happened to his guardian was painful.  He couldn't even imagine what it was like to suffer three Cruciatus Curses at the same time.  Mrs. Weasley put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.  She left it there as Harry found his voice and began to speak again.

"She said something about how it had been a long time.  Then Malfoy said she could have her fun, and that she could torture Professor Snape next.  Then she cursed me."

"With Cruciatus?" Bigelow prompted gently.

"Yes, but I didn't feel anything."

Bigelow frowned, but Dumbledore raised his hand.  "You will understand once we have told the whole story, Fitzwilliam."

"Bellatrix got mad, and she cursed me again.  This time I felt some pain in my shoulders, but it wasn't much.  Then she did it again, and I got a really bad headache.  They thought it was finally starting to work, but Hagrid and Mrs. Weasley knocked them out before she could try again."  Harry stopped talking and looked down at his hands.  Mrs. Weasley squeezed his shoulder once more.

Bigelow stroked his short, white beard with one hand.  "I see where this is going.  Somehow, as Harry's guardian, Celeste acted as a buffer against injury to him."

"And felt the effect of three Cruciatus Curses at once," said Dumbledore.

"How long was it until the curse was lifted?" asked the healer.

Everyone looked at Lupin.  He was the only person in the room that had witnessed the event from beginning to end.  "It's hard to say," he said, not meeting anyone's eyes.  "All of a sudden she just fell over and…"  He swallowed a few times before continuing.  "From the time it began until we figured out how to end it… three minutes, maybe."

"Finite Incantatem didn't work?" said Bigelow.

"The curse was still on Harry," said Sirius.  "Ardoc Bellaton figured it out."

Bigelow had a thoughtful look on his face.  "How long was it before she looked like she does now?" he asked.

Lupin squeezed his eyes shut.  His voice wavered as he answered.  "Not long.  Fifteen seconds, maybe."

"How long did it take Bellatrix to curse you, Harry?" the healer asked calmly.

"All three times?" Harry said dully.  "About that long, I guess.  When she thought it wasn't working she just tried again right away."

Bigelow exhaled slowly.  "From what you've told me, it seems like Celeste was able to withstand two jolts of Cruciatus for a very short time, but when the third hit, it was too much."  He shook his head.  "I'm afraid her mind has fled."

Dumbledore abruptly stood up, crossed his arms, and began to pace.  His face was like a thunderhead.

"What?" said Sirius.

"She was mentally unable to deal with the experience," said Bigelow.  "Her mind threw up walls to protect itself."

"Yer not sayin' that she's insane?" said Hagrid in disbelief.

"Not exactly," said Bigelow.  "The Longbottoms are insane.  They were tortured with Cruciatus – at length – until their minds could no longer handle it, either.  That was a slow breaking at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange.  As I said, this was different – a jolt, like being struck by lightning.  Her consciousness is in hiding somewhere."

"So… we could coax it out again, right?" Lupin said hopefully.

Bigelow gave him a doubtful look.  "Her awareness of self, memories, and ability to reason are all gone, but they haven't been burned out.  Theoretically she should be able to regain all this, but judging by my past experience with Cruciatus… she will never recover."  He paused, and for a moment there was complete silence in the room.  One could have heard a pin drop.  "I cannot give you false hope.  We had dozens of insane victims of Cruciatus here after the first war against Voldemort, and none of them were ever the same.  Some died and some are still with us, but they have only ever shown the smallest signs of improvement.  Even time doesn't help much."

"But she's not insane," said Lupin fiercely.  "You said that this isn't the same thing!  Why couldn't we find a cure for this?"

"I have studied the effects of Cruciatus for years in an attempt to help people like the Longbottoms," said Bigelow.  "I know how this works.  Whether she's mad or simply sheltering, once the mind traps itself, it is nearly impossible to unravel.  Cruciatus triggered the reaction, but Celeste is her own jailor now."

"Her own _jailor_?" Lupin hissed.

"Remus, Fitzwilliam is not insulting her," said Dumbledore.  "It's just the way things are."

"Not for long," Lupin snarled.  "If this can be done, it can be undone.  There IS a cure, and I will find it!"  He jumped off his own bed and strode from the room.

Mrs. Weasley rose as if to follow, but Bigelow stopped her.  "Best to let him go, Molly.  Think of how you would be reacting if this were Arthur instead of Celeste."  Mrs. Weasley nodded sadly.

"We will do everything that we can, of course," said Bigelow.  "Our efforts to end these afflictions never cease.  Many medical tomes speak of ancient spells that could be used to repair the mind, but we have been unable to discover what they are."

"I will have to send word to Caractacus Binns at the Great Library," Dumbledore said stiffly.  "He is endlessly patient and seems to want to remain.  Perhaps he can dig something up."

Hagrid barked a short laugh.  "Yeah.  Ghosts have plenty o' time on their hands."

"There is one blessing in all this," said Bigelow.  "After Celeste's mind went into lockdown, she would not have been aware of any pain.  If Remus' and Harry's estimates are correct, it was all very quick.  She felt nothing after fifteen seconds."

"Remus will be glad to know that," said Sirius.

"So what happens now?" said Mrs. Weasley.  "Is she going to stay like this forever?"  She gestured to Professor Thornby who was still staring straight up at the ceiling.

"We'll give her something to make her sleep for a few days," said Bigelow.  "She's going to be sore tomorrow, though she won't be aware of it."

"And then?" Mrs. Weasley prompted.

"Truth be told, I don't know how she'll behave when she awakens," said Bigelow.  "She might lie here staring, or she might get up and move around.  I expect that the latter will happen.  As the shock wears off a bit her mind should heal enough to allow her some control of her actions."

"Like Frank and Alice?" Mrs. Weasley said softly.

"I believe so, yes," said the healer.

"Where are yeh goin' ter keep her?" Hagrid said suddenly.  "As soon as You-Know-Who finds out she's here, he'll be sendin' an assassin.  Mark my words, he'll want ter finish the job while she can't fight back."

"Yes," said Dumbledore, looking sideways at Harry.  "He does like to strike when his opponent is weakest."

_Just like last summer,_ thought Harry.

"You could bring her to Alverbrooke," said Sirius.

"I could," said Dumbledore.  "I would rather not unless it is absolutely necessary.  I know you like Celeste, but she will become a burden to you."

"No," Sirius said firmly, "she won't."

"In any case, I'll not be sending her anywhere until she is awake again," said Dumbledore.  "An Auror can be placed here as a guard until a more permanent solution is devised."  He looked at Professor Thornby's still form and his mouth tightened again.  Harry suddenly realized that he was angry with _her_.  Saying it outright in front of Lupin would have been suicidal, but even with the werewolf gone, he was still keeping his peace.  Harry vaguely wondered exactly what it was about her actions that had him so upset.

"It is time to leave," said Dumbledore.  "There is still much to do tonight.  We have prisoners and the dead to see to, and the government is without a leader.  Hagrid, will you take Harry back to school?"

"Certainly," said Hagrid.

"Sirius, you go back to Alverbrooke," said Dumbledore.  "It will be the full moon in a few days, so make sure Remus drinks his potion.  I fear that in his current state of despair, he will care little for his own wellbeing."

"He'll drink it if I have to hold him down and pour it down his throat," said Sirius.

"Excellent.  Molly, please come with me."

Mrs. Weasley rose to leave with the headmaster.  She gave Harry a quick hug and whispered, "You know where to find us if you need anything."  With a loud crack, they Disapparated.

Sirius pulled Harry aside.  "Are you going to be all right?"

"Yeah.  Sure," said Harry.

Sirius sighed.  "Listen, we'll talk about summer some other time.  You're not going back to Number Four again."

Any other time, thinking of being permanently freed of the Dursleys would have been a cause for celebration, but Harry felt too dead inside to care much.  "Okay," he said.

Sirius gave him a mournful smile.  "I'll see you soon," he said.  "Good luck on your O.W.L.s."

"Thanks," said Harry, and Sirius Disapparated with another loud crack.

"Are yeh ready?" said Hagrid.  Harry nodded, and the half-giant led him out of the room and through the hospital.  "We can't be Apparatin' ter Hogwarts, so we'll Floo," he said.

They rounded a corner into the waiting room, looking for the row of fireplaces.  To Harry's shock, he saw that the waiting room was crammed full of people.  When he and Hagrid appeared, they all began shouting at once.  "Harry!"  "Rubeus!"  "Mr. Potter!"

"Bloody reporters!" Hagrid swore.  He was right; nearly all of them were holding quills and parchment.  Flash bulbs were going off, and the whole crowd pressed forward.

"Is it true that Cornelius Fudge is dead at the hands of Voldemort?"

"What do you know about the prison break?"

"How do you feel knowing that the Death Eaters are free?"

Harry felt panicky as the reporters pressed in on him.  "Come on now, out of the way!" boomed Hagrid.  He waved his great arms and people ducked out of the way.  Somehow he managed to clear a path to one of the fireplaces.  He thrust a handful of Floo powder into Harry's hand.  "Go," he said.  "I'll follow."

"Dumbledore's office," said Harry, throwing the powder onto the hearth.  In a whirl of green flame he was transported back to Hogwarts.  He stepped out of the fireplace, and moments later Hagrid's body appeared.

"Ouch!" said Hagrid, banging his head on the inside of the chimney.  He ducked out.  "Are yeh all right?"

"Yes," Harry said breathlessly.  "How did everyone find out so fast?"

"Could be a lot o' reasons," said Hagrid.  They slipped past the stone gargoyle and into the hall.  "First off, one o' the Order members is a reporter, but I don' think he's had time ter break the story yet.  More likely some o' the staff at St. Mungo's talked.  It's not a big deal, but I don' think Dumbledore would've wanted yeh ter be mobbed like that.  Come on – let's get yeh back to the tower.  Yeh need to sleep."

Harry was exhausted but he didn't think he'd be able to sleep, and he said as much.

"Things'll look better in the mornin', lad," said Hagrid as they walked through the dark, silent halls of Hogwarts.  Harry didn't think so, but he didn't say anything more about it.  Hagrid seemed to be comforting himself as much as he was trying to comfort Harry.

"Why is Dumbledore so angry with Professor Thornby?" Harry asked.  "Is it because he didn't know what she was going to do?"

"Somethin' like that," said Hagrid.  "But I think there's more to it.  Those friends o' his that were killed?  They were Order members.  He's been tense for days now; this was prob'ly just the last straw.  He's havin' some trouble acceptin' what she's done as well."

"Can you tell me about the Order?" Harry asked.

"Don' think that's up ter me, Harry," said Hagrid.  "Dumbledore'll have ter explain it to yeh now, but give him a few days.  He's got a lot ter do now."

They had arrived at the portrait hole.  Harry stared at it for a moment before he remembered the password.  "Free Professor Thornby," he said, and the portrait swung out to admit them.  "We'll have to get that changed," he said, and Hagrid gave him a morose look.

It was very late, but Harry found a small crowd of people waiting for him when he stepped into the common room.  All the fifth years, the Quidditch team, and Ginny were seated on the sofas and chairs, talking to each other.  Their faces lit up when Harry entered with Hagrid, but their hope quickly turned to uncertainty.  Harry didn't know what his own face looked like, but he was feeling anything but happy.

"Do yeh want me ter stay?" Hagrid said quietly.

Harry looked up at the gentle giant.  "Thank you, no," he said.  "I can handle it."

"All righ', then," said Hagrid.  "Remember, yeh don' have ter tell them everythin'.  Dumbledore'll have ter address the school tomorrow."  Harry nodded.  Hagrid clapped him on the shoulder once and left the common room.

Harry's friends watched him anxiously.  "What happened?" Hermione finally said.  "Is everyone all right?"

Harry stared off into the distance.  "No," he said.

"Percy?" said Ron, his face twisted with worry.

"Percy's okay," said Harry.  "Your parents are fine, too."  The four Weasleys sighed with relief.

"Then who?" said Angelina.

"Fudge is dead," Harry said tonelessly, and everyone gasped.

"No!" said Parvati.

"So are five of Dumbledore's friends and four Death Eaters," Harry continued, ignoring their shock.

"What about Professor Thornby?" Seamus said quickly.

Harry vaguely wondered how Seamus knew about that.  He opened his mouth and found that he couldn't answer.  He felt as if someone had strapped his chest with iron bands and was slowly pulling them tighter.  He looked up and his eyes fell on Neville.  "Neville, can I talk to you?" he said.

Neville's eyebrows rose and the others looked at each other.  "Uh, sure," he said, rising from his seat.

"Harry –" Hermione began, her eyes full of concern, but Harry stopped her.

"Not now.  Please?"  It came out more harshly than he had intended, but he didn't seem to have hurt her.  She simply nodded back, seeming to understand a little.  Everyone else just looked stunned.

Harry headed up the staircase with Neville following behind.  When they reached the fifth years' room they entered and shut the door behind them.  Neville went to his own four-poster and sat down, crossing his legs beneath him.  Harry remained standing.  He went to one of the windows and stared out at the grounds.  The clouds were beginning to break up, and light from the waxing gibbous moon was filtering through in pale, silvery shafts.  It was beautiful.  _Professor Thornby would have thought so too,_ Harry thought, and his throat ached painfully.

Harry turned away from the window and began to pace.  Neville watched him silently.  After a few minutes the lump in Harry's throat had dissolved enough that speaking was safe.  "Did you know that Professor Thornby was my guardian?" Harry said.

Neville frowned.  "Guardian?"

"It was her job to protect me," Harry clarified.  "She took an oath."

Neville shook his head.  "No, I didn't.  I guess Ron and Hermione knew, though?"

"Yeah, they did," said Harry.  He drew a deep breath.  "Neville, she's insane."

Neville's lips parted in surprise.  "What?"

"Well, not really insane, but pretty close," said Harry.

Shock and confusion were both plain on Neville's face.  "How?" he said.

"Cruciatus," said Harry.  "Bellatrix Lestrange cast it on me, not her, but she's the one who felt it."

"Bellatrix Lestrange?" said Neville in a strangled voice.  "She's _out_?"

"They're all out," Harry sighed.  "But Bellatrix and Lucius Malfoy got captured again."

"Wait," said Neville, looking thoroughly disoriented now.  "Maybe you'd better start from the beginning."

Harry obliged, starting with the Dragonthistle Potion that had begun it all.  He explained the link and how it worked, and how he had inherited some of Professor Thornby's talents.  He told about Percy's attempt to lead him away that night and the subsequent events.  By the time he explained exactly how Professor Thornby had managed to protect him, Neville's eyes were big as dinner plates.

"They don't know what she'll be like when she wakes up again," Harry said despairingly.  "They think she'll be a vegetable!  They think –"

"They think she'll be like my parents," Neville said quietly.

"Yeah," Harry admitted.  "I couldn't just tell everyone at once.  I thought you of all people would understand."

Neville looked down at his hands.  "You've never seen them, have you?"

"Your parents?  No."

"Maybe you should."

"Are you sure?" said Harry.

"Yeah," said Neville.  "Maybe it'll make it easier for you.  You'll know what you're facing without having to see it from her first."  He looked at Harry, and his eyes were full of pity.  "I'm sorry, Harry.  My mum and dad have been the way they are since I was a baby.  Fifteen years."

Harry felt the lump in his throat growing again.  "Healer Bigelow said there was almost no hope."

"He's right," said Neville.  "My gran's given up.  She'll never stop visiting them, but she says they'll never change."

"What about you?" said Harry.  His eyes stung dangerously.

"I can't give up," Neville said quietly.  "They're my mum and dad."

Harry closed his eyes tightly and felt a hot tear spill down his cheek.  Somehow, he didn't care if Neville saw him cry.  "I don't know what to do," he said desperately.  "Lupin's devastated, and I'm sure Professor Bellaton will be too.  This is all my fault!"

"How is that true?" said Neville.  "You said you didn't know what she'd done."

"I didn't," said Harry, "but she did it for me!  And I can't repay her, not ever!"

Neville looked at him with sympathy.  "I think it was a gift, Harry."

"I don't know how to accept it!" Harry wailed.  He dropped to a seat on his bed and buried his face in his hands as more tears spilled from his eyes.  "I don't want it, and I can't give it back!  It _always_ comes back to me!"

"But you have to be protected," said Neville.  "You have to be around to face You-Know-Who."

"Yeah, that's what everyone says," Harry said bitterly.  "Only I've never heard anyone say, 'Harry, here's why _you_ have to destroy Voldemort.  Here's why no one else can do it.  Here's what makes you the one!'  Until someone tells me that, all Professor Thornby did was get cursed into madness for the sake of the Boy Who Bloody Lived!  Don't you see?  Now that she's gone, it leaves me feeling responsible for it!"

Harry realized that he was shouting now, but he didn't care.  His sadness was giving way to anger.  "She should have told me so I could have refused!  She had no right to put this on my shoulders!"

"But, Harry – the prophecy," said Neville.

Harry paused in his rant.  "What?"

"The sacrifice," said Neville.  "Remember?  Do you think this was it?"

_The sacrifice must be made to safeguard the one who is marked._  Harry remembered the words as if they had been spoken only yesterday.  Other bits of the prophecy spun through his mind.  _The most ancient of magics… They who stand with the one who is marked… Unknown potential…_  Harry had a terrible feeling that Neville was right.  He was marked, and Ron and Hermione stood with him.  They had both discovered talents they hadn't known before.  Singing was an ancient art, but Harry was willing to bet that the spell that had made Professor Thornby his guardian was older still.

"If you think about it," said Neville, "this sacrifice was made months ago at the Gala."

"She still should have told me," Harry said stubbornly.

"Sounds to me like she didn't have the chance," said Neville.  "She knew there might be trouble after she revealed herself, so she took a precaution."

Harry thought about it, and suddenly he knew why Dumbledore was so angry with Professor Thornby.  "She must have known that she _could_ do it from the very beginning," said Harry.  "She kept it to herself.  She didn't even tell Dumbledore; he never would have let her do it."  

Neville gave him a reproachful look.  "What good does being mad at her do anyone?" he said.

"None," Harry admitted.  "But what do you do when someone does something like this for you?  I want to take it back, and I can't."  He paused for a moment and then said, "Would you tell the others, Neville?  I… can't do it."

"How much can I say?"

"As much as you want.  Anyone who was there when I came back can know it all."

"Okay," said Neville, rising from his seat.

"And tell Ron and Hermione it's nothing personal.  I just... need to be alone right now."

"Sure," said Neville.  He waited a moment, and when Harry said nothing more, he quietly left the room.

In the quiet, Harry felt all the hurt, anger, and sorrow well up inside him anew.  He felt trapped in more ways than one – by a destiny he didn't want or understand, and by everyone who seemed bent on making sure he lived to fulfill it.  It wasn't fair.  Harry didn't care if this 'sacrifice' had been prophesied.  It wasn't _fair_ for Professor Thornby to go and do this, because it wasn't just about her.  Had she ever thought about how everyone would feel after she was gone?  Had she thought about Lupin's broken heart, Bellaton's loss of companionship, or Harry's inability to shoulder such a burden?  If his suspicions about Dumbledore were correct, then he was in perfect agreement with the headmaster.  She should never have kept such a secret.

Still fully dressed in his Quidditch robes, Harry pulled his bedcurtains shut and lay down.  With all his emotions simmering, he couldn't stop the tears that dripped off the end of his nose and onto his pillowcase.  It had been a long, horrible day, and he had no idea what to do next.


	40. Frank and Alice Longbottom

**A/N: **Fanfiction.net has been awfully temperamental lately.  I would have updated much sooner, but when you can't log in, you can't update.  Things sure must have been crazy.  I got the same review emailed to me five times and then nothing else happened for days.  Well, we're back in business now.

Haunting Darkness: Yours is the review I've been emailed five times (the one about Cho).  Who knows why.  Anyway, thanks for continuing to review.  I'm glad you think I write well!  As for what got me to this point… I don't think you really wanted an answer to the question, but I'm going to give one anyway.  First, I read a lot.  The last book I finished was John Adams by David McCullough.  Fascinating piece of work; it won the Pulitzer a year or two ago, you know.  I'm a big fan of John Adams now.  He's completely overshadowed by Washington and Jefferson.  Anyway, extensive reading and knowledge of the rules of grammar really help.  There are a lot of people who post some good ideas on this site but their spelling, grammar, punctuation, you name it are so poor that I just can't read the story.  Hmm… Maybe I should post a "story" that simply serves as a writing aid.

Danae: Nice to see you again!  Yeah, poor everyone… not fun times.

PhoenixTearsp322: I hope you enjoyed your vacation.  I can hear you singing now: Ding dong, old Fudge is dead.  Which old Fudge?  The Minister Fudge!  Ding dong, old Fudgie, he is deaaad…  Well, I didn't kill him to appease anyone.  I thought that he had dug himself in too deeply to get out.  Thanks for pointing out that mistake, too.  It was supposed to be Cruciatus, not Imperius.  I've fixed it now.  grumbles  I read the chapter over heaven knows how many times and I _still_ didn't catch it.

Kaye: At least I didn't kill her!  Aaugh, I STILL can't believe J.K. Rowling killed Sirius.  Sniff.

Sherry: More about plans for the future in this chapter!

All Hail Chaos: Welcome to the story, and thanks for the encouragement!  Interesting name you've got there.

howling wolf1: If you've signed up for chapter alerts (and I see that you have), then you should automatically get them.  If the alerts ever don't go out, and I usually know when that happens, then I'll certainly drop you a note.

Rob: You pay a great deal of attention to detail.  I'm a bit surprised that no one else commented on Ron and Hermione's exclusion.  Different, yes, but there it is.  Have you considered writing stories of your own?  It just sounds to me like you've got the fortitude for it.  Hey, what do I know… maybe you already do write.

krysalys73: Heh.  Thanks for giving me permission to use your idea.  Now I'm just going to have to find a good place to work it in.

athenakitty: You are never satisfied!  I kill the one guy you really want dead, and now you want Lucius, Bellatrix, _and_ Draco gone.  Do I need to start calling you Death Queen?  :-)

Jemma Blackwell: Thanks for the compliment!  I'm always trying to write so that you can see what I see, hear what I hear, etc.  I'd really like to be able to draw some of these scenes, but I don't have much experience drawing and I've got little time to practice.

Chapter 40: Frank and Alice Longbottom

Harry awoke early the next morning, well before any of his roommates were up.  He sat up and stretched, feeling his neck crack a bit.  He wished he'd changed before falling asleep; he always hated how he felt after sleeping in his clothes.

Harry pulled his bedcurtains open and looked out the open window at the newly risen sun.  A cool morning breeze was wafting into the room along with the sounds of singing birds.  It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.  Harry was surprised to realize that Hagrid was right – he did feel better.  He was no longer reeling from shock and though he still felt the vestiges of anger and sorrow, they had lost their keen edges.

Harry rose and went to his trunk.  He pulled out a clean set of robes and was just leaving to find a shower when he saw that Ron was looking at him.  His friend had pulled his curtains back a bit and was blinking sleepily.

"Hey," said Ron.

"Hey," said Harry.

"You look awful," said Ron.

"Sleep in your Quidditch robes and see how you feel," said Harry.  "I'm going to clean up.  See you in a bit."

"Yeah."  Ron yawned and snuggled back into his pillow.

When Harry returned from the bathroom, he found Ron and Hermione waiting for him in the common room.  "Good morning, Harry," Hermione said tentatively.

Harry ventured a half-smile.  "Good morning," he said.

"How are you doing, mate?" Ron said seriously.

"Okay," said Harry.  "Listen, about last night –"

"Forget about it," said Ron.  "We understand."

"You do?" said Harry.

"Yes," said Hermione.  "Neville told us everything, including what happened to his parents."

"He did?" said Harry.  "Well, good for him."

"Yes, I think it _was _good for him," said Hermione.  "I didn't know that Bellatrix Lestrange was the one who tortured his mother and father."

"He was pretty upset when I told him she was out," said Harry.  "At least she's a captive again.  Listen, you know you're still my best friends, right?"

"We told you, forget about it," said Ron, and Hermione smiled and nodded.  "This is crazy stuff."  Harry felt some of the tension go out of his chest.  He hadn't expected his friends to be quite so understanding.

"Come on," said Hermione.  "Let's get down to breakfast.  I'll bet anything the _Daily Prophet_ will be breaking the bad news to the rest of the world any second now."

"Find someone to take your wager and you'll be a rich woman," said Harry.  "Hagrid and I were mobbed by reporters as we left St. Mungo's last night."

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was festive as the end of the school year was just two weeks away.  Only a few students had any idea of what had happened last night.  All the Gryffindors who had heard Neville's tale wore somber expressions and said little.  Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and saw that a handful of them were subdued as well, including Draco Malfoy.  Harry suddenly felt a stab of pity for his nemesis, who was surely about to be embarrassed beyond comprehension by the news of his father's capture.  After what had happened last night, Lucius Malfoy would no longer be able to hide his allegiance.

Harry wondered exactly how deep Draco was in himself.  As Professor Thornby had once said, the sins of the father did not automatically make the son guilty, but Draco had always taken pleasure in other people's misery.  Harry was fairly certain that in this case, the apple didn't fall far from the tree.  Still, he couldn't help musing on what Draco would have been like had he been raised by anyone other than his icy parents.  In a startling moment of revelation, Harry realized that Draco's personality wasn't entirely his fault; he had been poisoned from birth by a family that embraced evil.

A screech sounded overhead followed by several others.  The mail had arrived.

A thick roll of parchment dropped down next to Hermione.  She sighed heavily and unrolled it.  There in bold black print was the announcement, "YOU-KNOW-WHO HAS RETURNED".  Beneath were the subtitles "YOU-KNOW-WHO MASTERMINDS AZKABAN BREAK" and "BATTLE IN LITTLE HANGLETON – CORNELIUS FUDGE SLAIN".  Photographs of the escaped Death Eaters littered the page.  The portrait of Bellatrix Lestrange, who gazed up with her heavy-lidded eyes, was strangely compelling.  Harry found it hard to look away from her.

It took less than a minute for the entire Hall to get the news.  The sound of loud speech died away and was replaced by whispers as the news was passed from the students with the paper to those without.  Finally even the whispers died away and an eerie silence fell.

Harry's friends all crowded around Hermione and the _Daily Prophet_ – Ron, the fifth years, the Quidditch team, and Ginny.  They read in silence as the paper confirmed all the details of Harry's story, related to them by Neville.

Hermione turned the page.  There they found continuations of the first stories and new ones about who had perished in the battle.  Harry only recognized one name other than Fudge, and that was Roland Goyle.  He had never heard what Gregory Goyle's father's name was, but he knew he'd been a Death Eater.  One glance at the Slytherin showed that he was right; Goyle was utterly stonefaced though Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Vincent Crabbe were all talking softly to him.

Then came the story about Professor Thornby's fate.  Harry was surprised to see that the article accurately reported the circumstances of her near-execution, which was the catalyst for the battle.  It did not, however, connect her with Harry in any way.  That was to be expected; no one save the Order members and Harry's friends really knew exactly how she had been cursed.  Students around the Great Hall reacted with shock and disbelief as they absorbed the news.

Fudge came off looking better than he perhaps deserved.  He was vilified for his role in the botched execution but was lauded for his ultimate decision to turn from evil.  Harry shook his head.  There was no way for anyone to know what he had been thinking at the last.  Had Fudge died still resenting Dumbledore, or had he really had a change of heart?  All Harry knew was that Fudge had really, truly not wanted to aid Voldemort in any way.

One of the few places where the articles failed to report the facts involved Harry's presence at the hospital.  The paper made wild guesses as to what he had been doing there.  One speculation named him Dumbledore's anointed successor.  Another said that he could heal the afflicted with a single touch, and still another claimed he was a Singer and Professor Thornby's apprentice.  They were all clearly shots in the dark, but they still worried Harry.  It didn't take a great stretch of the imagination to realize that if Harry had been at the hospital, then he'd probably been at the battle as well.  He realized that he didn't much care who knew that he had a guardian, but he didn't want anyone figuring out how she had been broken.  If it were known that she stood between Harry and harm, she would be offed before you could even _think_ 'Avada Kedavra'.

Harry knew that it wasn't just the Death Eaters who would be a problem if the truth of the sacrifice came out.  Who knew how many people feared Singers as much as Fudge had?  Any fanatic would be dangerous.  What would happen if someone used the Killing Curse on him?  Would Professor Thornby absorb that and leave Harry unhurt, or would they both be killed?  In any case, Harry was determined to stay out of harm's way until he figured out a way to break the bond or at least change it.  He wouldn't even stub a toe if he could help it.

"May I have your attention please," said Dumbledore's commanding voice.  It was already very quiet in the Great Hall, but every eye turned to the staff table where the headmaster had risen from his seat.  He looked solemnly back at the students over his half-moon glasses.  "You all seem to have heard the news that Voldemort has attacked and Minister Cornelius Fudge is dead.  As one who was there, I can tell you that these stories are true.  Ten lives were lost last night, and Voldemort's followers were released from prison.  I will not mince words with you; the second war has begun."  A murmur rippled through the hall.  "Most of you will have also heard that our History of Magic Professor has lost her mind.  This is also true.  The cause was the Cruciatus Curse, administered by Bellatrix Lestrange.  The healers at St. Mungo's believe that recovery is extremely unlikely."  Students glanced at each other with dismayed faces.  At the staff table, the professors reacted with varying degrees of surprise.  McGonagall, Snape, and Bellaton, who already knew, absorbed it with faces that looked carved from stone.

"These are the beginnings of dark days," Dumbledore continued gravely.  "Voldemort and his followers will do their utmost to wrest power from our government, our courts, and from this school.  But I want to remind you all that there is no safer place to be than Hogwarts.  This school will not close.  It will not bend knee to Voldemort, and neither will the rest of the world so long as it bands together against him.

"I encourage everyone who is not in their seventh year to continue your education during this time.  Hogwarts is where you will be armed to face the obstacles before you.  Adult witches and wizards will fight this evil with their wands, but you will fight it by learning.  Only with a thorough education will you be prepared to live in the world that exists beyond these castle walls."  Dumbledore sat down again, and the Great Hall filled with the buzz of talking students.

"Will people really take their kids out of school?" Harry asked aloud.

"It happened last time," said Alicia.  "My dad told me that nearly a third of the students were kept home by their parents."

"But Dumbledore's right – Hogwarts _is_ the safest place for anyone," said Seamus.

Alicia shrugged.  "I guess some people just want their families close at times like these."

The rest of breakfast was a quiet affair.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione mechanically ate before returning to Gryffindor Tower for their books.  With the exams this close, they were spending as much time as possible studying.  All the fifth years were and that day was no different, even if the world finally knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Voldemort had returned.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had not been in the library long before Professor McGonagall came walking up with Neville in tow.  She gave them no chance to ask questions.  "You three are needed," she said briskly.  They looked curiously at each other but Professor McGonagall made no move to explain herself further, and Harry and his friends rose to go, leaving their books on the table.

As they walked through the halls, Neville filled them in.  "My gran is here," he said.  "I owled her before going to bed last night."

"What does she have to do with us?" said Ron.

"I told her I wanted you to see my mum and dad," said Neville.

"Today?" said Harry.

Neville shrugged.  "Well, sometime soon.  I think I'd better warn you – she might not like the idea much.  Her coming without writing back isn't a good sign.  She's… formidable."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged uncertain glances.  Harry had only ever seen Neville's grandmother briefly, and she looked… well, like a grandmother, but he had heard stories.  Mrs. Longbottom was reputed to be tough as nails and hardheaded as a bull.  Quiet, reserved Neville frequently seemed either in awe or fear of her.  In any case, she sounded very much like a true matriarch.

Professor McGonagall stopped in front of the now familiar stone gargoyle.  "Pepper Imp," she said, and it rotated to grant them entrance.  Inside Dumbledore's office stood the headmaster and an aged, stiff-backed witch.  She wore severe-looking robes complete with a brooch at her throat and an imposing hat that sported what looked like a stuffed raven.  Her hair was iron gray and pulled up beneath the hat.

Neville's grandmother swept up to him when he entered.  "Good afternoon, Neville," she said briskly.  "Studying up for your O.W.L.s?"

"Yes, gran," said Neville.

Mrs. Longbottom's stern face suddenly melted into a warm smile.  She looked not unlike Professor McGonagall when she smiled.  "I know you'll do well," she said fondly.  "You've quite changed this year; your family and I hardly know what to make of it."  Neville was clearly trying not to smile, but he went pink and the corners of his mouth twitched.

Mrs. Longbottom's gaze fell on Harry, Ron, and Hermione and her smile faded away.  "Will you introduce your friends?" she said.

"Oh," said Neville.  "Um, gran, this is Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger."

"How do you do?" Hermione said politely.

"Why, very well, thank you," Mrs. Longbottom said tartly.  "Neville speaks so highly of all three of you."  Her tone clearly said that she had formed no such high opinion herself.  Harry thought her piercing eyes could see right through him.  Neville had told the truth; his grandmother was a formidable woman.

"So.  You want to see what Cruciatus can do to a person," said Mrs. Longbottom.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced uneasily at each other.  Mrs. Longbottom made that sound like an accusation.  Clearly she was unhappy about the arrangement.

"I suggested it, gran," Neville said quickly.  "They never would have asked me any such thing."

"Wouldn't they, now," said Mrs. Longbottom, casting another critical glance at Harry and his friends.

"No, they wouldn't," Neville said in a firmer voice.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at him in amazement.  All three of them were intimidated by this woman, but Neville was speaking up to her?  Even if she was family to him, she was still severe.  "Mum and Dad can help even if they don't know it.  My friends can learn something from them."

Mrs. Longbottom's features softened, and for an instant naked pain was visible on her face.  Just as quickly as it had come it was gone again, masked behind a wall of steel.  "Very well," she said.  "Albus, will you be accompanying us?"

"If you will permit me, Magnolia," said Dumbledore.  "It has been too long since I have seen Frank and Alice."

"For heaven's sake, Albus, call me Maggie.  How many times to I have to tell you?" said Mrs. Longbottom.

"Once more, obviously," said Dumbledore with a smile.  He picked up a flowering plant from his desk.  "A gift from Professor Sprout," he said.  "Apparently the blossoms' aroma is supposed to relax the mind and promote creative thought."

"Please thank her for me," Mrs. Longbottom said tightly, and Harry remembered what Neville had told him – that his grandmother had given up hope for his parents' recovery.

"Shall we go?" said Dumbledore, and Mrs. Longbottom nodded.

The six of them Flooed one by one to the waiting room at St. Mungo's.  When they had all arrived Mrs. Longbottom strode to the desk at the end of the room.  "We are here to see Frank and Alice Longbottom," she said in a bossy voice.

The witch blanched a bit at being addressed in such a tone, but she merely pushed a large, leatherbound book to the edge of the desk.  "Please sign in," she said.  When everyone had done so, she called another witch in white, who bade the group to follow her.

The night before, Harry had been too distracted to notice his surroundings much.  Now he had a chance to look around as they walked.  The hallways were wide and had arched ceilings and doorways, and the walls were all lit with the same silvery lamps.  They passed many corridors and rooms that branched off from the main passage.  Harry got a glimpse into a few of them as they passed.  Through one door he thought he saw an endless pine forest, and the ceiling of another was enchanted like the roof of the Great Hall at Hogwarts.  Still another seemed to be an enormous greenhouse of some sort, full of vines and flowers.  Most of the rooms, however, looked like normal hospital rooms, full of white beds.

Ron and Hermione seemed just as curious about the enchanted rooms as Harry was.  "What's with all the forests and such?" said Ron.

"They are therapeutic locations," said the witch.  "At St. Mungo's we promote a sense of tranquility in every way possible.  Many patients enjoy an accelerated recovery by spending time in those rooms.  We're currently working on a seaside; it's really something.  Here we are - the closed ward."  The pair of doors they had stopped before glowed slightly around the edges.  "You need a password to get in," she explained.  "This ward contains some of our most sensitive patients, and we can't have people wandering in to disturb them.  Rest for the Weary."  The doors swung open.

The closed ward was essentially a large room with white walls, a high ceiling, and dozens of windows.  A few matrons and healers moved between the beds.  Some were filled with people who seemed to be asleep while others were curtained off so they couldn't be seen.  Here and there a patient was up and about.  It was very quiet save for the sounds made by a man at the far end of the ward who apparently thought he was a bird.  The still atmosphere made Harry feel very uncomfortable.  He tried not to look too long at any of the patients as he walked past, thinking that it would be rude to stare.

Finally the group approached two people who sat in armchairs near a window.  "My parents," Neville said softly.

Neville's mother, Alice, had a face that had once been beautiful but now was lined and sagging.  His father, Frank, looked far too old for his age.  Their hair and clothes were clean and neatly kept, and they bore no physical injuries that Harry could see.  Their faces, on the other hand, were another matter entirely.  Two pairs of eyes stared straight out the window.  Their expressions were devoid of all emotion.  Neither so much as glanced up at the small group; in fact, they didn't even seem aware of each other.

No one said anything for a long minute.  Harry, Ron, and Hermione sadly watched the damaged witch and wizard as they gazed out the window.  They were shells of the people they had once been.  Harry wondered how he would be able to stand seeing Professor Thornby like this, knowing what she had once been like.  The Longbottoms' bodies went on living while the very things that made them unique were gone.  Harry absently wondered if they were much different from people who had received a Dementor's Kiss.

"Neville," said Mrs. Longbottom, breaking the quiet, "go sit with your friends, please.  I would like to speak with Albus alone."

"Yes, gran," said Neville.  He led Harry, Ron, and Hermione across the room to a small group of chairs.  They could still see his parents, Mrs. Longbottom, and Dumbledore from their position, but they were out of earshot.

"Neville, I'm so sorry," said Hermione, twisting her hands.  Ron didn't say anything, but his expression showed his compassion.

"I guess you can see why I never told anyone," said Neville.  "Gran thinks I'm ashamed of them, but I'm not.  I was enough of a screw-up to begin with; I didn't want anyone feeling sorry for me for my parents on top of that."

"You're not a screw-up," Harry said solemnly.

Neville ventured a tiny smile.  "Thanks," he said.  "I've changed so much in the past year that I hardly know myself."

"You were _never_ a screw-up," said Harry.  "Not to any of your friends."

Neville smiled again, but Harry could see that he didn't believe him.  "I'm proud of Mum and Dad," he said.  "I know they did the right thing, and that helps, but I still wish…  I wish this had never happened."

Another silence fell.  After a few minutes Hermione spoke up.  "Neville, do you know how many people are here who are like your parents?"

"Insane from Cruciatus?" said Neville.  "The last I heard, it was near a dozen or so, all told."

"And they've been looking for a cure all this time?"

"I think so," said Neville, "but I get the feeling they're just going through the motions now.  This isn't a new problem; the last war just threw it back into the spotlight."

"Well, _I_ won't just go through the motions," Hermione said firmly.

"What are you talking about?" said Ron.

"I'm saying that I'm going to look for a solution," she said.

"Hermione, the best healers have been working on this for decades," said Ron.  "What makes you think you can succeed where they've failed?"

"There _has_ to be a way," said Hermione.  "Harry told us that Healer Bigelow said that his books make reference to a cure.  And if anyone knows how to dig through books, it's me."

"Don't you think they've _done_ that already?" said Ron.  "You're not going to find your answer in the library at Hogwarts!  Anything close to hand will have been gone through!"

"I doubt it," said Hermione.  "There's loads of stuff in there that no one ever touches, and besides, I don't think the Healers would go there to do research.  No, I don't think I'll find a book that tells me exactly what the cure is, but I'm _sure_ I'll find books that give me clues.  And don't forget – there are more libraries in the world than the one at Hogwarts.  I've got access to the one at Alverbrooke, too, and after that… there's the Great Library."

"I don't think that's even in this country," said Ron.

"It's in Greece," said Hermione.  "Amazing, the things you can learn from books, isn't it?"

"You can't just up and go to Greece!" Ron exclaimed.

"You said that Dumbledore was going to talk to Professor Binns, Harry," said Neville.

Harry frowned.  "Yes, but I wouldn't put too much faith in him.  He won't see the matter as urgent.  I'll bet he just puts it off in favor of whatever he's doing right now."

"Well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it," said Hermione.

"What's with all this 'I' anyway?" said Ron.  "Whatever happened to 'we'?"

Hermione stared incredulously at him.  "You've just given me all these reasons why I shouldn't bother –"

"Well, looking for ourselves is at least better than waiting for the healers to figure it out," said Ron.

Hermione threw up her hands.  "I'll never understand you."

"I hope you never will," said Ron, grinning impishly.  "How about it, Harry?  Are you in?"

A slow smile crept across Harry's face.  "Yeah," he said.  "Let's do it."

"I'll help too," said Neville.  "I'm sick of waiting around."

"I don't want you to get your hopes up too much," Hermione said worriedly.  "We might not find anything at all."

Neville shrugged.  "I know.  But at least this way I can say that I tried."

Hermione beamed at him.  "Oh, this is so exciting!  With the four of us working on it, we'll get through the Hogwarts library in no time!"

"Ugh, don't make me reconsider," said Ron.  "Weeks of sitting around in the library, going through book after obscure book and getting covered in dust isn't my idea of fun."

"Speaking of which, we won't have access to the Hogwarts library much longer," said Harry.  "Once exams are over we'll have the rest of the summer to work, but we won't be at school."

"I think I can spare a little studying time," said Hermione.  "I've got a blank book in my room.  Maybe I can do some copying."

Ron's mouth fell open.  "Now I _know_ you're cracked," he said.  "Giving up study time?  You're probably more prepared for the O.W.L.s than anyone else, but I know you're still obsessing."

"There's no such thing as being too prepared," Hermione said loftily, "though I must say, your own efforts this year have been nothing short of miraculous."

"Only because you need really good marks to get into Auror training," Ron grumped.

"Wow," said Neville.  "I didn't know that's what you were going for."

"What about you?" said Harry.

"I don't really know," said Neville.  "Gran's been getting on my case about it.  I've got a few ideas, but I haven't decided yet."

"Time to go, Neville," said his grandmother's voice from nearby.  Everyone jumped; they hadn't noticed her approach.  Harry searched Mrs. Longbottom's face carefully, but she didn't look as if she had overheard any of their plans.

"I didn't get to visit," said Neville.

"I know," said Mrs. Longbottom.  "In two weeks you'll have plenty of time to come and see them.  Right now you need to study for your O.W.L.s."

"Yeah," sighed Ron.  "Back to the books again."

The students left the closed ward with Dumbledore and Mrs. Longbottom, but not before Neville gently kissed his mother and father goodbye.  Minutes later they were back at Hogwarts.  After a quick stop at Gryffindor Tower for Hermione's benefit, they were on their way to the library again.

"I've got this," said Hermione, holding up a thick book, "and I'm fairly sure there's something about copying in _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3_.  I had today earmarked for studying Herbology, but I feel fairly confident about that class already, so I figure I can do this now."

"I can help," Ron said eagerly.  "I was going to do Astronomy today, but you don't need that for Auror training, so –"

"Forget it, freckle-face," said Hermione.  "I saw your last test.  You still don't know the difference between a quasar and a pulsar."

"Since when do Aurors need to know about quasars and pulsars?" said Ron.  "And what're you doing looking at my tests?"  They bickered all the way to the library, but Hermione was adamant.  When she threatened to not let him help at all, Ron got the message and swore he would learn everything about distant heavenly bodies that she pleased.

Neville settled himself back at the corner table with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.  The boys all cracked their books while Hermione raided the shelves.  Before long she had figured out her copying charm; one quill danced over the page of the book she wanted to reproduce while another self-inking quill mimicked its motion on the page of her blank book.  Hermione leafed through the stack of tomes while the quills copied, marking pages that interested her with scraps of paper.

Harry watched enviously as Hermione rose from her chair, disappeared into the shelves, and returned with a new stack of books.  What she was doing was of much more personal interest to him than the standard magical elements of wand cores, but he knew that he needed to study.  In two weeks he'd have lots of time on his hands to use as he pleased, since he wouldn't be going back to Privet Drive.  As he turned back to his text Harry briefly wondered what the Dursleys would make of it, but the thought passed as quickly as it had come, and his brain resumed memorizing countless facts once more.


	41. Year's End

**A/N:** Here it is – the last chapter.  My apologies for having taken so long, but I was a bit fried after the last few, and the words just weren't coming.  The story ends on a note such that I'll have to continue with Year 6, which will be forthcoming.  I'm still working on the outline.  In the meantime I may work more on the "Back Stories".  Thank you, thank you to everyone who read and reviewed.  I received a response for this story the like of which I never expected.  I'm glad I've provided so many hours of entertainment for so many people.  The final document – in Word – is 223 pages, 10-point font.  Whew!

krysalys73: Yes, I think Harry could be central to Professor Thornby's recovery, too.  Enjoy!

All Hail Chaos: Thank you!  Yeah, it'll be a summer of books.

Kemsy: Thank you so much for weighing in!  Good luck with your own story.  This one has taken me almost two years to finish, and I can tell that my work has grown and changed over that time, so definitely keep it up!

Kaye: Yeah, she's really insane, but Harry's going to try and change that.  He's got a stubborn streak.

Phoenixtearsp322: Yeah, I read those comments by J.K. Rowling somewhere.  Of course she doesn't want to paint herself into a corner, so I can't say I'm surprised.  I'm glad you had a good vacation.  I'm jealous – Disney World is a pretty neat place.  I've been there several times during my childhood but it's been a while since my last visit.

Haunting Darkness: Thanks!  I can only assume that that was an EVIL laugh at the end.

capncrunchnotthecereal: Hope you got caught up on the chapters you missed.  Interesting new name you've got there!

totallystellar: Not so much action in this chapter, but there's always tomorrow.  Thanks for your always faithful reviews – you've really been super.

Rob: The whole "most ancient of magics" part of the prophecy was referring to the Guardianship thing.  The Singers can't singlehandedly defeat Voldemort, though they can certainly do their part to help.  Fighting him will definitely be a team effort.

Jemma Blackwell: Hey, thanks!  I'm glad you think they're acting their age.  I'm in my mid-twenties, which means I was once fifteen myself, but I don't really remember how I acted.  :-)  Thanks again for all your wonderful, wonderful reviews!

athenakitty: After reading this chapter you may want someone else to die.  :-)  Heh!

Sherry: Er… the fifth year is ending, but the overall story will continue!  Thanks for the great compliments!

howling wolf1: Harry's definitely going to be working on that cure – as soon as he's done with exams.

Prongs4: A lot of stuff was broken on ff.net in the past week or so, wasn't it?  It was really frustrating when I was ready to update and couldn't log in.  Hey, thanks so much!  The best AU 5th year you've read?  Cool!

Amethyst Star: Wow.  If you read this in one go then your backside must have been tired!  Thanks for all your kind comments, and I hope you'll continue with the sixth year story (once it gets posted).

misao-werewolf: I think Harry is starting to understand that not everything is black and white, including Draco Malfoy.  The Slytherins have got their own choices to make, and Malfoy's got lots of reasons for doing… well, whatever he might do.  Welcome to the story!

Jedi Buttercup: It wasn't fun for me to make Professor Thornby insane at all, and you're right – Remus needs some love.  He's been unfairly shunted aside for something he can't control, and thought that she would be able to empathize.  You've been a really great reviewer – thanks for all your encouragement and advice.  I take it very seriously.

Nimbus 1944: I'm so relieved that you liked the story, since your own writing was so wonderful.  I do enjoy ballroom dancing, which is so much more fun than just wiggling around.  Thanks for taking the time to read and let me know what you thought.  Oh, and I'm glad you let me know about the length of the story.  500 pages?  Wow!  Just the other day I was wondering how it compared to a regular Harry Potter book.

Meg S-R: I can't say "thank you" enough for your incredible comments.  As I continue to write I do hope you continue to enjoy it.  Cheers!

Chapter 41: Year's End

When the rest of Harry's friends found out what he, Ron, Hermione, and Neville were planning, they one and all offered to help.  Harry and Neville were both touched beyond words.  However, everyone except Ginny and Katie had either O.W.L.s or N.E.W.T.s coming up, so most of them had little time to spare until summer began.  As shocking as it was, even Fred and George were studying night and day.  "Mum's been putting the pressure on," Ron confided to Harry and Hermione.

Harry didn't quite understand it, but even with all the work they had to do, everyone seemed to find a little time for the project.  Hermione taught everyone the copying charm and soon they had all found ways to get just a little more research done.  Parvati, Lavender, Seamus, and Dean took to leafing through tomes during meals, simply marking relevant passages and letting their enchanted quills do the copying.  Fred, George, Alicia, and Angelina took study breaks in the form of paging through medical books.  No one read the passages thoroughly, but they'd have plenty of time to go over their copied pages after the exams.

Harry didn't know when he had ever been so busy.  When he wasn't studying or looking through a stack of library books for clues, he was reading the _Daily Prophet_.  The fallout from Voldemort's attack and Fudge's death was incredible.  Every day sensational new stories were being printed.  Harry could easily imagine the _Daily Prophet _reporters salivating with glee as they dashed off each new article.

Elections were going to have to be held, and nominations were already starting to come in.  Dumbledore was the first person named, of course, but the headmaster immediately made a public statement declining the nomination.  Many of the Hogwarts students seemed surprised, but Harry, Ron, and Hermione weren't.  One of the reasons Fudge had hated the headmaster so much was the fact that he had been a second choice for Minister – behind Dumbledore, who had refused the position.  Harry had no doubt that most people would have embraced Dumbledore with open arms had he accepted the nomination; no one else would have dared to run against him.  _Perhaps that's why he turned it down,_ thought Harry.  _Maybe he thinks someone else deserves the chance to lead._

Fudge's infrastructure was falling apart.  Lucius Malfoy was in captivity and Walden Macnair had simply vanished, unmasked as he was.  Suddenly members of the Assembly and the Wizengamot who had refused to oppose Fudge's policies were standing up and speaking out.  It was astonishing how many people had let Fudge have his way simply by remaining silent, but now their blackmailer was gone.

Madeleine Jenkins, the witch who had been Fudge's voice in the Wizengamot, unexpectedly resigned from the court.  Madam Bones was firmly back in control, and people were clamoring for Dumbledore's reinstatement as Chief Warlock.  On this matter Dumbledore had not yet weighed in, but then again, he had not been formally asked.  The court was already discussing several decrees passed under Fudge's administration including decree number one thousand, one hundred and twenty-two and its companion.  Harry couldn't wait for them to be repealed; they had done enough damage already.  Ron never mentioned his latent talent, but it was obviously on his mind.  He followed every story about the Singers' proclamations with meticulous intensity.

Professor Thornby's public exoneration seemed all but assured, but Harry soon had something even better to be excited about.  One week before their first exam he, Ron, and Hermione were eating breakfast over the _Daily Prophet_, which they had taken to dividing amongst themselves to save time.  Hermione suddenly coughed down her bite of scone and exclaimed, "Harry!"

"What?" said Harry, looking up from an article on the search for Voldemort's location.

"Look!" she said, grabbing her section of the paper and thrusting it under his nose.  She pointed to a small article that was nestled in the bottom corner of the page below the bigger, more important stories.  The little headline read "SIRIUS BLACK INNOCENT?"

Harry's eyes widened and he feverishly began to read.

_An unnamed source at the Ministry of Magic reports that the interrogations of Bellatrix Lestrange and Lucius Malfoy have shed new light on the events that led to the arrest of Sirius Black.  Black was tried for and convicted of the murders of Peter Pettigrew and a dozen Muggles on a public street in London.  He served twelve years in Azkaban before escaping three years ago.  He has not been seen since._

_Last year, Harry Potter claimed to have seen Pettigrew alive and in the company of You-Know-Who.  These allegations alone raise serious questions about the events of twelve August almost fifteen years ago.  Black has long denied ever being in league with You-Know-Who.  The careful interrogation of the two Death Eaters in custody may give further insight into the affair._

Harry finished the article and sat in stunned silence.  All capacity for speech seemed to have left him.

"Wow, Harry," breathed Ron.

"It makes sense," said Hermione with a note of wonder in her voice.  "Malfoy certainly knew that Pettigrew was a Death Eater – they were both there in the graveyard that night.  He and Bellatrix have to know that it was Pettigrew all along, not Sirius!  If they use Veritaserum and ask the right questions – oh, Harry, they'll _have _to declare him innocent!"

"Yeah," Harry whispered, finding his voice at last.  "Can… can I keep this, Hermione?"

She beamed at him.  "Of course."

After that, Harry had to force his nose to the grindstone.  The very thought of Sirius being cleared of all charges made his heart dance for joy.  It was difficult to keep secrets all the time, and Sirius was one of the biggest secrets of them all.  He knew he probably shouldn't get his hopes up, but it was too late – they were up and staying up.  At the same time, it was painful to realize that the key to Sirius' freedom might have been in Azkaban with him all along – the other Death Eaters.  What had they known that the Ministry had never bothered to ask?

With just days to go before the big exams, everyone but Ginny and Katie stopped doing any research at all.  Hermione, who had been almost angelically calm the whole time, finally began to show her nerves.  She studied by taking endless notes, and now she was cranking out page after page in the library at night.  Harry and Ron knew she had no cause for worry and told her so; she was the most dedicated student in their year, if not in the whole school.  Hermione would not be pacified, though, and she continued tearing through her books at a frantic pace.

Harry was feeling surprisingly calm.  Perhaps it was because his classes were going better than they ever had before, or maybe it was the fact that he had faced so many things that were worse than exams.  Even the feared O.W.L.s couldn't be worse than fighting Voldemort for your very life.  Whatever it was, Harry just felt _ready_.  Everything he needed to do well in he thought he could handle.  Some tests would be better than others, but he had high hopes for some decent marks.  Potions weighed the most heavily on his mind, but the older students had told the fifth years that Snape wouldn't be the exam proctor.  Harry thought that this alone would bump his grade up several points.

The last days flew by in a flurry of ink, parchment and headaches.  On Saturday night, one day before the exams, every single fifth and seventh year was holed up in the library save Harry, Ron, and Hermione.  Harry and Ron were comfortably settled in the Gryffindor common room playing Wizard Chess.  Hermione was curled up in a chair nearby reading _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5._  Harry and Ron felt they deserved and needed a night off, but they hadn't been able to fully convince Hermione to do the same.  The fact that she was with them and not in the library was a victory by itself.

"King's rook to D-4," said Ron, and his piece promptly smashed one of Harry's pawns.

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "I don't suppose you could ask your pieces to break each other as quietly as possible?"

"If I did that, they'd stop taking directions from me," said Ron.  "They'd think I'd gone soft."

"Well, it was worth a try, anyway," she said, turning the page.

"Harry, what's going to happen to you once the term ends?" asked Ron.  "You're not going back to Privet Drive, are you?"

"I found another note from Professor McGonagall on my pillow," Harry replied.  "I'm supposed to go see Dumbledore in the morning."

"He couldn't possibly send you back there," said Hermione.  "They've tried to kill you.  Twice!"

"Not deliberately," said Harry, "but yeah, I think they're out of the question now.  To think that all these years, all they had to do to get me out of the house was to try and kill me!"

"Ugh," said Hermione.  "Gallows humor really doesn't suit you."

"They'll put you at Alverbrooke," said Ron.  "Besides here and Privet Drive, there's nowhere else that you've lived."

"That's what I'm counting on," said Harry.

**********

The next morning Harry went down to breakfast with Ron and Hermione.  He had just a few minutes to grab a bite to eat before his meeting with Dumbledore.  The rest of the fifth year Gryffindors were already bent over their textbooks, so no one said anything much until a group of elderly witches and wizards appeared out in the entrance hall.  Harry thought that one of them, an old, gray-haired witch, looked familiar.  Everyone craned their necks to get a better look through the doorway.

"Is that them?" Lavender said nervously.

"The examiners?  Yeah," said Neville.  He pointed to the witch Harry vaguely recognized.  "That's Griselda Marchbanks.  She's a friend of my Gran's."

"Oh, great," said Ron, looking more than a little green.  "Anyone who's good friends with your grandmother is going to make me nervous."

Neville grinned at him.  "Come to think of it, they _are_ very much alike."

"What else do you know about her?" said Hermione.

"Well, she's a little hard of hearing, I think," said Neville, "and Gran once said that Professor Marchbanks was an examiner when Dumbledore was a student."

"Oh, don't say any more," exclaimed Lavender.

"You're only making this worse," said Dean.

Neville rolled his eyes.  "Oh, come on.  You don't know them and they don't know you.  How bad can it be?"

Everyone slowly turned to stare at him.  No matter how much he had changed in the past year, Neville being brave when everyone else was nervous was still something to marvel at.

"Is that prefect badge giving off vapors or something?" said Seamus, peering at the gleaming piece of metal pinned to Neville's robes.

Harry looked down at his watch and jumped to his feet.  "Oh, bother – I've got to go."

"Where's the fire?" said Parvati.

"Got to see Dumbledore," said Harry.  "New living arrangements."

"You're not going back to your aunt and uncle?" said Seamus.

"Don't think so," said Harry as he hurriedly stuffed the last of his muffin into his mouth.

"Hey, congratulations!" said Dean.

"Fanksh," said Harry, spraying a few crumbs as he rushed off.

Harry ran through the halls until he approached Dumbledore's office.  He skidded to a halt in front of the stone gargoyle and found Professor McGonagall waiting for him.  She raised an eyebrow at his undignified entrance, but her half-smile clearly said, "Kids."

"Right on time, Potter," she said aloud.  "Pepper Imp!"

"Good morning, Harry," said Dumbledore as they stepped into his office.

"Good morning," Lupin echoed.  He was sitting in a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.  He looked as if he hadn't slept since the battle.  His eyes were shadowed, but the smile that touched his lips when he saw Harry was real enough.

"Hello, Remus," said Harry, venturing a smile of his own.  "How… how are you doing?"

"A little better, I think," said Lupin.  "I've been doing a lot of reading."

_Me too,_ thought Harry, but he didn't say anything.  Neither he nor any of his friends knew what the adults would make of their quest, and they had decided not to tell until they were found out.

"I know you have studying to do, so I'll get right to the point," said Dumbledore.  "After the Dragonthistle Potion and those Christmas chocolates, I no longer feel that the Dursleys offer you adequate protection.  In fact, they have become a liability.  Still, I will not make a decision without consulting you first.  Do you want to return to Number Four?"

Harry wrinkled his nose.  "Merlin, no!"

Dumbledore smiled.  "I thought you would say that.  I will arrange for the appropriate papers to be drawn up.  I have contacts in the Muggle government – squibs, actually."

"Papers?" said Harry.

"Your aunt and uncle are your legal guardians until you come of age," said Dumbledore.  "They will need to relinquish custody of you.  Remus has agreed to be your legal guardian, if that is all right with you."

"That'd be great," said Harry, grinning at Lupin.  His old teacher looked relieved, as if he hadn't believed that Harry would agree.  "What did Sirius think?" Harry asked.

"Well, he wanted it to be him, but since he's still a convicted felon on the lam…" said Lupin.

"Right," said Harry.  "But maybe not for long!"

Lupin smiled.  "Believe me, we're all pretty excited about that.  Sirius is trying to stay calm, but he's not having much success."

"With luck, Sirius will be exonerated," said Dumbledore.  "Who will serve as your legal guardian at that time will be up to you, Harry.  Until then I expect that this will go smoothly, but I must ask you – can you think of any reason why the Dursleys would refuse to give up custody?"

Harry shook his head.  "No.  They've never wanted me around."

Dumbledore's face darkened.  "I am sorry for that, but I would wish you to know that I had a reason for leaving you with them all these years."

"You started to tell me last summer," said Harry.

"Yes," said Dumbledore.  "Actually, it is only your aunt that you needed to live with, as she was your mother's sister.  Your mother died to save you, sealing you with a protection so strong that it nearly destroyed Voldemort.  Her blood flows in her sister's veins, as different as they seem to be.  Living under your aunt's roof was all that was necessary to keep some portion of that charm alive."

"Is this a spell?" said Harry, feeling confused.

"Yes and no," said Dumbledore.  "As I once said, this is magic of the oldest kind, though no incantation was spoken.  Your mother's sister, like it or not, became involved simply by being her kin."

"But after I found the Sorcerer's Stone, you said that it was my mum's _love_ that saved me.  Aunt Petunia doesn't love me," said Harry.  Professor McGonagall gave him a sympathetic look.

"You might be surprised," said Dumbledore.  "From what Arabella Figg told me, she was worried sick about you while you were poisoned."

"Yeah, only because if I died she'd be a murderer," scoffed Harry.

Dumbledore raised his hands in surrender.  "Surely that was part of it, but my point is that you don't know what lies deep within her heart.  That she is self-centered and blind to all that really matters in this life, I do not dispute, but for that – I pity her."

Harry didn't have anything to say to that.  He had never really thought about it before.

"The headmaster will write to your aunt and uncle explaining the situation, but you will want to do the same," said Professor McGonagall.  "It will be better if you make a clean break than to leave matters unfinished.  You can't simply disappear without a word."

"If I never saw them again, I wouldn't care," said Harry.

"You don't have to see them," said Professor McGonagall, "but you at least need to write."

"Okay," said Harry.  He drew a deep breath and exhaled.  "This is exciting," he said, feeling a big grin creep across his face.

Lupin smiled back at him.  "We're looking forward to having you," he said.  "It will be as it should have been from the very beginning."

A short time later, Harry found himself in the library, telling his friends about his good fortune.  Afterwards they settled in for one last, long day of studying, but even this couldn't dampen Harry's good mood.  His whole body felt like a balloon soaring higher and higher into the sky.

He was never going back to Privet Drive again.

**********

"Oh, no," Hermione moaned.  "I can't remember all four relatives of the Confundus Charm."

"Memory Charms," said Harry, not looking up from his own notes.

"Imperius," said Ron.

"The Misdirection Charm," said Harry.  "And…"  He and Ron looked up at each other and frowned.

"Are you sure there are four?" said Ron.  "Maybe Confundus _is_ the fourth."

"No, there are four _besides_ Confundus," said Hermione, beginning to look frantic.  "Maybe if I just run back up to my room, I can look it up.  Let's see, I've got half an hour… ten minutes to get up there, ten to find and memorize the information, ten to get back down…"

"Would you take it easy?" Ron grumped.  "You're making me nervous."  They were eating breakfast in the Great Hall.  Their first exam would be taking place shortly.

Hermione shook her head.  "This could be the one thing that makes the difference between an Outstanding and an Exceeds Expectations mark –"

"There's nothing you need to worry about," said Harry.  "You're going to get O.W.L.s in everything, just wait and see."

"Yeah," said Ron.  "It's in the bag."

Somehow they managed to convince Hermione to stay and eat.  "You won't be able to think if your stomach is growling the whole time," said Harry.  She admitted that he was right, but she couldn't seem to stop worrying.

"If the Confundus Charm is on the test I'm going to kill you both," she threatened as they stepped out of the Great Hall with the rest of the students.  The doors were shut, and the fifth years waited while the interior was transformed for the test.  When the doors were thrown open again, the long House tables were gone.  Rows of desks stood in their place.

The students were seated alphabetically.  Harry found himself sitting near the Patil twins and Pansy Parkinson.  Ron was far in the back near Blaise Zabini, while Hermione was right behind Gregory Goyle, who was staring down at his desk with a blank expression.  While he was looking around Harry managed to catch Draco Malfoy's eye.  Malfoy sneered at Harry and quickly looked away.  Ever since his father's arrest he had been withdrawn from the rest of the students.  It was as if he wanted nothing more than to just vanish into the background for a while.

When they were all seated, one of the wizards who had arrived the day before walked to a large desk at the front of the group.  "Good morning," he said.  "I am Professor Tofty of the Wizarding Examinations Authority.  I will be administering first examination, Charms, which is in two parts.  You will have one hour to complete the written section, after which comes a practical section.  When your papers appear on your desks, you may pick up your pencils and begin."  Professor Tofty waved his wand and several sheets of thick, yellow parchment materialized in front of Harry.  Harry took his pencil as Professor Tofty turned over a large hourglass on his desk.

_1.  List four ways to become invisible, including incantations, if applicable._

Harry smiled.  He knew four, thanks to Ron in part.  Besides invisibility cloaks, there were also the Disillusionment Charm, the Imperceptus Charm, and _Avertia_, which Ron had called "Muggle Repellant".

Harry methodically worked his way through the papers.  It really wasn't that bad; he found that he seldom needed to skip a question.  He knew most of the material from Charms class, the Dueling Club, and his exhaustive study sessions.  Even after he had gone back over the questions he'd skipped the first time through, there were still five minutes to spare when he put his pencil down.  He could see that Hermione was still working, but it looked like she was merely changing a word here and there.

"Time," said Professor Tofty, and several students groaned.  He waved his wand and their papers vanished.  The other examiners entered the Great Hall, and Professor Tofty asked everyone to leave save Hannah Abbot, Terry Boot, Susan Bones and Mandy Brocklehurst.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione congregated outside the closed doors of the Great Hall.  "I don't want to talk about it," said Ron when Hermione opened her mouth.

"It went that badly?" said Harry.

"It went fine," said Ron.  "I'm just not the type who likes to rehash a test right after it's over, especially not with you, Hermione.  You'll undermine my confidence."  Hermione smiled and flushed.

It wasn't long before another group of students was called into the Great Hall.  The ones who had already been examined did not reappear.

Hermione was the first of the three of them to go.  When her name was called, she gave Harry and Ron a nervous grin and slipped into the Great Hall.  Harry leaned against the stone wall and tapped his wand against his palm, trying not to think about his test.  He still thought it had gone well, but dwelling on it only made him wonder.

"Parkinson, Patil, Patil, and Potter," said Professor Tofty, opening the door.  Ron gave Harry a thumbs-up and a weak grin before the door swung shut again.

Harry found himself being examined by Professor Marchbanks while the others paired off with the other three examiners.  The old witch had Harry conjure a fire out of nothing, make a padded cushion do loop-the-loops in midair, and turn a songbird into stone, among other things.

"Very good," she said in a reedy but loud voice, smiling and making notes on her clipboard as Harry successfully made a frog sing and dance.  Everything she said was loud; Harry could only suppose that it had something to do with her hearing.

"I have heard," Professor Marchbanks said casually, "that you successfully cast _Donum Vitae_ and saved Professor Snape's life."

Harry was suddenly wary.  "Yes," he said.

"Where did you learn this spell?"

Harry opened his mouth and shut it again.  How was he supposed to explain it?  He glanced about the room looking for a reason to stall, but found none.  Unable to think of anything better, he decided to tell the truth – or part of it, anyway.

"I didn't really learn it," he said.  "It was cast on me once."

Professor Marchbanks smiled at him.  "By Celeste Thornby.  Yes, I know," she said when Harry gaped at her.  She had dropped her voice so that it was audible to no one but Harry.  "I am a friend of Albus' and a member of the Wizengamot and the Order.  And I'm not as deaf as I make myself out to be."  She winked at him.

_So that's where I've seen her – at the Wizengamot,_ thought Harry.  "Why are you –" he began, and she held up a hand.

"Just so you know who your friends are," she said quietly.  Then she raised her voice again so it carried throughout the Great Hall.  "Excellent charm work, Mr. Potter.  Good luck with the rest of your exams."

"Th-thanks," Harry stammered, and left the Great Hall through a side door.

**********

"Oi, Ron!" called Fred from across the room.  "Over here!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stumbled across the room to the plush red sofas where Alicia, Angelina, and the twins were relaxing.  Ginny was sitting on the floor nearby, copying something out of a thick book into a blank one.  The fifth years were fresh from their last O.W.L., and all of them were exhausted after three days of tests.

"We'll be having a little party tonight," said George with a wink.  "Graduation's in a week, but we've definitely got to celebrate.  Only one day left at Hogwarts."

"So how did it go?" said Angelina.

Harry rubbed at his eyes.  "I'm so tired," he said.  "But I think it was worth it – all the studying, I mean."

Hermione smiled smugly.  "Your year of hitting the books has paid off, then?"

"See, here's the thing," said Ron.  "You've been doing it ever since you first got here.  How is it you're not dead?"

"If you want to be an Auror, you're going to have to keep it up," she said lightly.

"I know," Ron groused.  "I think I might actually miss Divination next year.  All my skiving-off classes will be gone."

"I won't miss it," said Harry, thinking back on his exam.  It had been an unmitigated disaster, but he couldn't care less.  Divination wasn't a subject one needed to get into Auror training.  "All those sightings of the Grim and predictions of my death?  And let's not forget that my very presence made the Inner Eye open a bit wider."  He rolled his eyes.

Ron laughed.  "Yeah.  Good thing Trelawney hasn't made any more prophecies this year, or I don't think she'd let you go period."

Harry shuddered.  "I'd rather not think about it."

"I heard Lavender's Divination exam actually went rather well," said Alicia.

Harry looked across the room to where Lavender was sitting with Parvati and Neville.  Even though that particular exam had taken place the day before, she was still talking about it.  Her excited gesticulations made that clear enough.

"Well, good for her," said George.  "Just as long as she doesn't start dressing like Trelawney –"

"- or talking like Trelawney –" said Fred.

"- or having delusions of grandeur like Trelawney, then she'll be all right," finished George.

"I'm going to go pack," said Ron, standing up.  "I want tomorrow to be completely free."

"An excellent idea," said Fred.  "We've been packed for days.  Seeing as we're now nastily exhausted, it's a good thing."  He flashed them a toothy grin, looking anything but tired.

"Say," Ron said suddenly, "you never said how _your_ tests went."

"Well, we always said we'd die of shame if we ever earned a single N.E.W.T.," said George.

"But as it turns out, Charms and Transfiguration have been more useful than we anticipated," said Fred.  "Expect us to die of shame when our marks come in."

"You really think you did that well?" Ron said doubtfully.

The twins scowled at him.  "Do you think for one moment that we'd study that hard for nothing?" said George.

"It'll make Mum happy," said Fred.

"It'll make Mum cry," Ginny said quietly, not looking up from her book.  "She'll be really proud."

"Well, I guess it'll be worth it, then," said George with a grin.

"Come on, Harry," said Ron.  "Let's get this over with."

"Yes," said Fred.  "You don't want to miss the hot butterbeer!"

"We would get firewhiskey, but you're too young," teased George.

"So what?" Ron retorted.  "It's horrible stuff."

"Someday you might not think so!" Fred shouted after Harry and Ron as they disappeared up the staircase.

They arrived in their room to find it empty.  Seamus, Dean, and Neville were all still in the common room, chatting about the exams.  Ron had been rather reluctant to talk about how his own tests had gone, and Harry was dying of curiosity.  "Well?" he said as he pulled sets of school robes from a wardrobe.  "What do you think?"

"What do I think about what?" said Ron.

Harry rolled his eyes.  "Are you going to make it to Auror training?"

"I don't know," Ron sighed.  "Charms went pretty well.  I know I missed a point here and there on the written part but the practical stuff was fine.  Transfiguration was pretty good, even though my fork still had a tongue on the first try."

"Mine had scales on the first try," said Harry.  "The second went better."

"If snakes could turn into salad forks whenever they pleased, you Parselmouths could just _ask_ them to do it," said Ron.

"Potions is what I'm worried about," said Harry.

"Me too," said Ron.  He reached up and took his Chudley Cannons poster down from the wall.  "Everyone knows Snape won't let anyone but the best into his class.  It doesn't seem to matter how hard I work at Potions – it's never perfect."

"Your practical went really well, though," said Harry.  "I saw your Strengthening Solution.  It was just the right color."

"But I missed a whole question on the written part," said Ron.  "I couldn't remember the ingredients for the Draught of the Living Death."

"Well, I've heard that a really good practical can make up for forgotten facts on the written part," said Harry.  "I mean, come on.  If you were going to make the Draught of the Living Death in real life, would you make it from memory?"

Ron snickered.  "If I did that, it would turn out to be the Draught of the Actual Death."

"Exactly," said Harry.  "Even Snape wouldn't… well, he might."

"He might," Ron agreed.  "But only because Potions are his life, the weirdo.  Anyway, we have six weeks until the results.  I'm going to try and not think about it until then."

"Me too," said Harry.  "If I didn't make it into Auror training… I don't know what else I'd do.  I'm too set upon it."  He folded up the last of his shirts and stuffed them into his trunk along with his spellbooks, notes, ink and parchment.  He closed the lid and propped his Firebolt up against the trunk.  "Well, I'm ready," he said.  "All we need to do tomorrow is get Hedwig and Orpheus, and we're done."

"This is taking too long," Ron grumbled.  "_Accio_ shirts!"  The wardrobe door flew open and a small blizzard of clothing flew into the trunk.  "Well, it's not very neat, but it's done," he said defensively.

Harry sat down on his trunk to wait for his friend to finish.  "Ron," he said cautiously, "have you given any more thought to learning?"

Ron's back was turned toward Harry, who saw his friend's shoulders slump.  Obviously Ron knew exactly what Harry meant.  "Yes," he said.  "I think I will want to learn someday, but not quite yet.  Maybe when those decrees get repealed.  I want to do my part, you know, but I never thought that this would be it.  I can carry a tune, but to sing like the professors do?  I don't know if it's possible.  What if I turned out to be the worst Singer ever?"

"Bellaton would teach you," said Harry.  "Besides, you'll never know if you don't try.  Maybe you'll be really good.  You could be famous."

"I don't know if I want to be famous," said Ron.  "I used to want to be, but after hanging around you for five years, I'm not so sure.  Rita Skeeter was brutal to you last year.  And let's not forget that not everyone likes Singers.  I could be an outcast."

"I think that's changing," said Harry.  "You saw how disgusted people were with Professor Thornby's arrest.  Hardly anyone seemed to care that she was a Singer.  Yeah, she shocked them all, but they got over it."

"Well, once those decrees get repealed, we'll see," said Ron.

"Ickle Ronniekins!  Butterbeer!" came a shout from the hallway.  Harry could hear the noise level in the common room rising.

"I'm actually going to miss them next year, the insufferable gits," said Ron.

"Yeah," said Harry.  "Someone else will have to become official school prankster."

"Brendan Hill is a pretty good candidate," said Ron as they left their dorm room.  "You know that rooster that popped out of the pudding last month and sang Happy Birthday to Olivia Stile?  That was him."

"Even Fred and George thought that was a nice piece of work," said Harry.  "Maybe they should give him their official seal of approval."

They had reached the bottom of the stairs.  The common room had been decked out in red and gold banners and students were laughing and talking everywhere.  "Have a drink," said Fred, pushing a bottle of butterbeer into their hands.  "Hufflepuff may have won the House Cup this year, but we're still Quidditch champions."

Hermione came running up, holding her own bottle of butterbeer.  "Come on," she said.  "We're composing a fight song for Gryffindor, but it's dreadful.  We need some help."

"Looks like you've got a chance to practice those dulcet tones," Harry said under his breath.

"Sod off," said Ron, but he grinned back.

  **********

A whistle screamed and Harry, Ron, and Hermione all lurched forward as the Hogwarts Express rolled to a stop at platform 9 ¾.  All three of them stood up and hurried out of the compartment.  The corridor outside was already packed with students, all of whom were eager to get off the train and see their families again.  For the first time ever, Harry was excited to go, too.  The Dursleys were out of his life for good.

Finally they reached the doorway and spilled out onto the platform.  "Ron!" Mrs. Weasley called immediately.  She and Mr. Weasley were easy to find with their bright red hair.  Ginny was already with them, and Percy was there as well.  "Oh, welcome back, welcome back," said Mrs. Weasley, enfolding Ron in a quick hug.

"Hullo, son," said Mr. Weasley, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, and hello, Harry, Hermione dear," she continued, hugging them both in turn.  Percy merely smiled and shook their hands.

"Hullo again!" crowed Fred as he came walking up with George.

"Oh, Fred, George," said Mrs. Weasley, all a-twitter.  "How were your tests, boys?"

"Ron's went well, or so we hear," said George.

"George," Mrs. Weasley began dangerously.

"Don't worry, Mum.  We think you'll be pleasantly surprised," said Fred.  "You've made mamma's boys out of us, and we'll never live it down."

Mrs. Weasley gasped and her face lit up.  "Oh, how wonderful!  Did you really try?  Ginny, dear, did they –"

"They did, Mum –"

"Maybe we should get out of the way," laughed Mr. Weasley.

"Oh!  Oh, yes, let's do, Remus is waiting outside!"  Mrs. Weasley seemed about to burst with excitement.

"He is?" said Harry.

"Yes," said Mr. Weasley.  "He wanted to avoid the crowd."

Harry hastily made his way to the barrier.  He ran through as quickly as he could and got out of the way to make room for everyone else.  Lupin was standing a short distance away.  "Harry!" he said when they appeared.

"Hi, Remus," said Harry, happily giving him a quick embrace.  "Come on, I'm ready to go."

Lupin laughed.  "I doubt you've ever been this eager to leave before."

"Nope," said Harry, practically bouncing on his toes.

"Oh, you'll come to the Burrow for tea first, won't you?" said Mrs. Weasley breathlessly.  "The Grangers will be there – they've been added to the Floo network, you know – and Sirius said he'd come.  I've got biscuits and petit fours…"

"What's he doing here?" Ron interrupted.  He was staring down the platform with a look of disbelief on his face.

Harry turned to look.  Uncle Vernon was standing not ten feet away, watching the group.  One hand was in his pocket and an impatient expression was on his face.  "I… don't know," Harry said truthfully, feeling his excitement replaced by apprehension.

Lupin scowled and strode over to Vernon.  "Is there a problem, Mr. Dursley?  The papers are to be signed tonight."

Vernon looked at Lupin with obvious disdain.  "I'd like to speak to Harry before you drag him off into the sunset."

Everyone turned to look at Harry whose eyebrows shot up.  "What about?" he said cautiously.

"I have… some things to say," said Vernon.  He sounded almost penitent.  "After all, this is probably the last time we'll ever see each other, and I can't say I blame you."

Harry stared at his uncle in disbelief.  This was highly unusual behavior.  _Maybe Dumbledore was right about the Dursleys,_ thought Harry.  Then he remembered the Dragonthistle Potion and the poisoned chocolates.  _Then again, maybe not,_ he thought.  He trusted his uncle no farther than he could throw him – and he couldn't throw that portly bulk one inch.  Still, he didn't see what harm it would do to hear Vernon out, so long as they were within sight of the others.  "All right," he said.

Lupin started to follow them, but Vernon stopped.  "I'd rather it were just the two of us," he said.

Lupin gave Harry's uncle a dark glare and retreated.  "Don't go far," he said ominously.

"Right," said Vernon.  He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped at his forehead.  When they had moved out of earshot of the rest of the group, he turned to face Harry.  He hadn't yet removed his left hand from his pocket, and his nonchalant pose was at odds with his suddenly angry expression.  "So.  You've decided to go live with the rest of your freaky friends."

Harry narrowed his eyes.  "_This_ is what you wanted to talk about?"

"We did our best to make you normal, you know.  It was all for your own good."

"I suppose that when you poisoned me the first time and then tried again, it was all for the best?" Harry said sarcastically.

"Don't you take that tone with me, boy."

"I'll take any tone I want," Harry retorted.  "You're not in charge of me anymore."

"Sixteen years of supporting you are almost over," said Vernon.  "It really was most inconsiderate of your parents to die and spring you on us.  You can't imagine how expensive it is to raise a child."

Hot anger welled up inside Harry.  "Shut up," he snarled.  "You've been kicking me around ever since they died.  I don't need any more from you."

"But I need something from you," Vernon said smoothly.

Harry blinked.  "What –?"

Before Harry had a chance to react, Vernon snatched at his pocket and seized his wand.  He finally pulled his left hand from his coat pocket.  Harry barely had time to notice that his uncle was wearing a black glove before he snapped Harry's wand in two, quick as a wink.

Harry's heart stopped.  "No!" he shouted.

The Weasleys instantly stopped talking and turned to look at them in surprise.  Lupin, who had never taken his eyes off the pair, had begun to charge Vernon.

Vernon let the broken pieces of Harry's wand fall and stretched out his gloved hand.

Harry stumbled backwards.  He didn't know what was going on, but he didn't want to stick around and find out.  It was time to get away.

He was too late.  Vernon's hand closed on Harry's bare wrist.  The last thing Harry heard was Lupin's roar of wrath and frustration as Kings Cross winked out around them.

~FIN~

**A/N: **Harry's 6th year is currently entitled Harry Potter and the Dark Uprising.  Chapter 1 is up.  I would post the link here but for some reason it won't show up on the page when I upload.  You can get there by going back to the top of the page and clicking on "Gabriel4", just opposite the chapter selector.  It's a link to my author page.  Select the new story from there.


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